Unwritten
by iLoveMeSomeCaptainAmerica
Summary: It really sucks when you find someone that's so beautiful and handsome and perfect, but then you get slapped in the face by reality: he's in love with someone else. AU. Short Story.
1. New Year, Old Story

**_~Clary~_**

You all know the story.

The unfortunate little girl that still hasn't gone through puberty—or has, just, you know, skipped over that whole getting boobs-thing—whose best friend just happens to be captain of the football team, unbelievably handsome, male-model material, and so popular that his name is an icon at school.

They've known each other their whole lives. He knows her better than anyone else and she knows him better than he knows himself. He's upset, he'll give her a call, or FaceTime or message her over Facebook for hours, be damned if it's a school night or not. He can tell her _everything_, and so, it's not exactly uncommon for the two to keep each other up into the early hours of the next day.

She's upset, he'll be standing at her bedroom door like a knight in shinning armor, not even ten minutes later, with a bucket of ice cream—_always _mint chocolate chip—and all of the Red Box that the nearest convenience store has to offer.

Both stubborn as hell, too smart for their own good, and the perfect partners in crime. They aren't Jace...and then Clary. They're Jace and Clary.

Perfect.

But there's a twist, and I'm sure all of you can guess what it is.

Yup, the girl—me—is hopelessly in love with her her best friend, unbeknownst to him, only to have to watch him fall in love with someone else.

* * *

><p>I look in the mirror and imagine it shattering. A simple crack at first, and then, once it has fully digested my hapless looks, it just completely goes <em>kaboom<em>._ Freckles_. They're _all over the place_. _Glasses_. The ones my wannabe-hipster dad gave to me once he discovered contacts. _Short_._ Too skinny. No boobs_._ No butt_. The list is as listless as it horrible.

My hair is a tornado of red curls of all different sizes. It's that reason alone that people too unoriginal to come up with a decent nickname, that's also supposed to be as equally insulting, have taken to calling me the princess from Brave, Merida, and find it all too funny to suggest I work at Disney World portraying her for a future career. Really, it's ridiculous because about ninety percent of those who tell me this are self-proclaimed, dignified, popular school-boys too "mature" to play Minecraft. What are they doing spending their free time watching animated movies about princesses?

Yeah, I've tried the Chi, I've even tried to get a blowout, but the wild rats-nest upon my head will always prevail. Trust me; I've tried _everything, _from natural remedies that claim "smooth, waterfall-resembling locks", to forty-buck rip-offs that _promise _"no frizz, not fight, no hassle"—only to prove each and every product or supposed solution wrong. I've never gotten my money back, either.

Old ladies absolutely adore my hair. The problem: they're old ladies. And they love _all _hair because they don't have any. So, the compliment has a defeated purpose and I can't really take anything any from it other than ninety-five-year-olds who spend the majority of their day playing Yahtzee and watching Family Feud want the mop on top of my head. I would love to be like the other girls—_kill _to be like them, and even go as far to trade my favorite push-up bra to actually pull my hair back into a cute updo from time to time, but my hair is so thick that it just completely snaps any hair tie that I try to tame it with.

My eyes are truly the only redeemable quality about me, and even they are too big for the rest of my body and, not to mention, hidden behind my glasses. They're literally like two moons seen through thermal lighting. I mean, it's like they've been photoshopped onto my face from a bush baby's. And their color doesn't help either. Emerald green. They're super bright—too bright—and stand out like a sore thumb. A lot of people tell me that I should be happy that I wasn't born with the "dreaded" brown eyes—most of them being brown-eyed people themselves—but I know that my eyes aren't as pretty as they are unique, and they only say it to be nice. I'm not exaggerating when I say that no one wants eyes that resemble a highlighter, no matter how outlandish or different they may be.

I've been called a leprechaun too many times in my life, in part because of my hair and eyes, and in whole because of how short I am. Short and scrawny and unshapely and unwomanly and unworthy—and completely drowning in a shirt I'd gotten from the junior's department in the smallest size they had. I guess the style was supposed to be billowy, but it was also supposed to be a _shirt_, not a dress. To find a happy medium, I paired it with some leggings because I feared that it'd reveal a little too much come some wind, and, of course, my most favorite shoes: a pair of Chuck Taylor's I've had since middle school.

_Tap. Ta-ta-tap tap. Tap. Tap._

I jump in surprise and whirl away from my mirror to face the window, which is always left partially-open for my best friend, who might as well have taken permanent residence in my home by now. I've known Jace since the diaper days because our parents were all super close friends during the years they shared together in high school. We didn't really have a choice but to be friends with each other, because, well, we'd shared the same bathtub until we were in kindergarten, and the same bed even now.

To say we were an odd pairing would be a complete understatement. Me, being the short and sweet, little sidekick, and him—currently taking up the whole of my window, resting his hands along the frame and crouching on a tree branch—being huge and brooding, and no body's sidekick but perhaps, I'd like to think, my own. He had the body of Himeros, and the appearance of one to rival a young Brad Pitt. Everything about him was flawless, from his head—where his beautiful gold tendrils curl in an effortlessly tousled style—to his toes. And he has _nice _toes.

Flushed lips. Bronzed, rubber skin, a smoldering smirk as infuriating as it was devastating, and gold eyes that you can just melt in, like a slowly drizzling chocolate waterfall, with a pool of quicksand at the bottom—that are totally looking at me as if I had grown four heads. "Are you gonna invite me in, or what?" he called. "I've decided to take on a more chivalrous approach this year as I'm now a year's worth more mature."

The blush that taints my cheeks in inevitable and I hastily look down to straighten out my shirt. Which makes no sense at all. "Ah, yes, Jace, come in," I managed, rolling my eyes despite myself.

Jace smiled, slipping under the open part of the window and coming to stand before me after an entire summer long of not being able to see him. "Did you miss me?"

I smile easily. "Certainly, especially when you choose to scare the living bejesus out of me by _climbing up a tree _to get inside my room. I had an entire summer not having to worry about that happening, so call me spoiled and caught off guard when the first person I see from school is in my window." The lie was easy to pick up on. Knowing Jace was back—_finally_—the first thing I'd done this morning was open my window. When he wasn't out of town, like I'd said before, I never even bothered with closing it, so it was like a burst of nostalgia being able to keep it open again.

Jace laughs, throwing his head back and all. A beautiful sight. "I thought it'd be like a blast from the past—"

"Or two months ago?"

"Details," he said, shooting me a rare smile. A real one.

I realize that I have crane my neck at a dangerous angle to be able to see his face, which is different from the last time. I mean, I've always been short compared to him, but now I felt downright microscopic. Not only that, but, if at all possible, he looked as if he'd gotten even more muscular, sporting chorded arms and broad, masculine shoulders, and strong-looking, well, everything. It's not like he looked like a wrestler on steroids, no, he was much smaller and had much lither attributes, which, to me, made him all the more endearing.

"You've gotten taller over the summer," I observed.

"Or you've gotten shorter," he challenged playfully, taking a moment to look me up and down. "If you're not gonna admit that you missed all this," he said, gesturing down at his body and waggling his eyebrows, "then I guess I'll save my dignity for another time: I missed you, Clary. Being able to talk to you over the phone for five minutes at a time has nothing over being able to talk to you now, in person."

"And a lot nicer."

He scoffs, smothering me into a giant hug before I have any time to react. My face is pressed into his chest, cutting off my airways, and his hands, nearly the size of my entire torso, don't allow me any leverage or room to pull away. I didn't care though. I wrap my arms around his waist and welcome his embrace.

Then something happens.

I feel his lips press against my forehead.

For a second I am too stunned to even think, but then a warm sensation blossoms in my belly and spreads like a wildfire all throughout my body. I looked up to see Jace looking down at me. "I really did miss you," he whispers.

"I-I, uh, missed you too."

Jace then, unfortunately, ruffled my hair, pulling alway completely with a cheerful, guttural laugh. Clearly the moment was over, and the kiss meant nothing anymore than what it really was. A kiss. Not on the lips, but on the forehead. Like a brother kissing his sister, or a father kissing his daughter. I hated, absolutely _hated _when Jace did that; when he treated me like his best friend even though I _was_. Even now, he always loved to ruffle my hair—as if I were one of his buddies from football. An insignificant _friend_.

I wished that I could say I liked that he felt comfortable enough around me to tell me everything, but when everything meant his latest hookups and what he did with so-and-so in the boy's locker room the other week, I wasn't exactly grateful for the inside scoop. I know _he _didn't feel like he was hurting my feelings, but when Jace talked about other girls or playfully shoved me into a locker or _ruffled _my hair, I was only reminded that I was, and would always be his best friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

He made me feel as small as I was, despite how big of a role a best friend played in someone else's life.

Trying to hide my obvious disappointment, I turned around, back towards my vanity. "Before we head to school," I called over my shoulder to him, "I, uh, got you something for your birthday."

"You didn't have to do that, Clary—"

"But I did." I turn my face slightly towards his to see his expression. Hard to read, like always. "It's not much, but...the chain that you keep your family ring on is a piece of yarn," I chuckle, " and I thought that it needed something that would do it justice."

I open the top drawer and pull out a small, blue box. Before I can open it, however, Jace's fingers were plucking it from my grasp. His eyes were wide with interest and, when he finally figures out how to remove the bow on top, he drops the package all together to admire the long, gold chain in his hands.

"Sorry I couldn't get you more—"

"No," he looks at me, "it's perfect. Thank you."

"I thought that you'd like it if it were longer so that you could hide it under your football gear when you play."

He nods and repeats, "It's perfect."

I watch as he removes the thin rope from around his neck and rips it in half to retrieve the gold ring that had been hanging there. Before he undoes the clasp on the back of his present, however, he turns to me, with a hopeful look in his eyes. "My fingers are a too big to get this open. Do you think you could...?"

I gratefully take it and string the ring across the silky, gold chain, holding it out for him. Once it's resting against his shirt, perfectly fitted, Jace holds out his hand for mine and winks. "We don't want to be late on the first day, now do we?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>~Jace~<strong>_

"Tell me about your little friend Clary," Sebastian says nonchalantly as he slips his jersey off, over his head.

I send him a heated glare, which goes unnoticed as he sits down on the bench, his helmet resting on his lap, his attention on the opposite wall of lockers.

"What's it to you?" I ask, though I had a pretty good idea as to what his answer would be. Sebastian Verlac was a bigger player than myself, which says basically everything you need to know about him; he's a total jerk to guys and girls alike, he's cocky, he's manipulative, and he only thinks with his dick.

I personally hate the guy's guts, but, because he'd made the cut this year, I've been forced to have to tolerate him. Which, so far, hasn't been going too good.

"She's cute."

"She's too good for you," I tell him, without missing a beat. _Not_ Clary. "So don't try anything."

Clary, the most beautiful and wonderful and deserving girl you will ever meet, has hidden behind her wild hair and glasses for years now. But that hasn't stopped guys from asking me about her. Of course my answer would always be the same every time: _Don't even think about it_, and, because I am who I am, and I have a reputation for breaking some guy's leg in the seventh grade, they've listened and left her alone.

But Sebastian...

He smirks, standing up to face me. "Oh please. I know girls like her. She won't be able to stop smiling for a week if a guy like me talks to her, even if it's just to return her the pencil she dropped. She's pretty but she doesn't know it. She hides behind her dorky glasses. She's naive and easy––"

Before Sebastian can say another word, he's thrown up against my locker. "You don't know _anything _about her. If you touch her I swear to God I'll kill you. _Don't _you ever talk about her like that again. Got it asshole?"

The guys surrounding us, having been completely oblivious up until this point, all take several steps back, giving each other high-fives discreetly, watching with excitement, their eyes hungry for a fight.

Sebastian, with the backs of his knees pressed against the bench and the back of his head forced against metal, smiles, causing my arm to automatically push harder against his neck. "She'd be so easy Jace," he spits.

"_Take it back_!"

"She won't be so innocent when I'm done with her––"

"_SHUT UP_!"

"WOAH! Come on guys––Herondale, Verlac, break it up!" Coach Johnson, with his clipboard, stalks towards us, throwing me off of Sebastian, but not without a fight. I am maneuvered a safe distance away from the other boy, who's smiling smugly, knowing that I let him get to me, and forced to look in the eyes of our coach. "One more strike Herondale. That's all I'm giving you." Then he turns to Sebastian. "You too, Verlac. Get it together!"

I've never taken Coach's warnings seriously, because he's said the same thing to me about three times this season all ready.

When the door to his office slams shut, Sebastian tilts his head to the left and then to the right, smiling at the popping noise. "I don't get why you care so much anyways," he begins in a low voice. "It's not like you like her––" he cuts himself off abruptly, a sly grin slithering its way onto his pasty face. "Wait, you do! You like her, don't you?"

"No!" I snap. "_I don't_. But she's my best friend, Sebastian, and I care about her more than anything else in this world. So don't mess with her. Ever. Or you'll be sorry."

He holds up his hands. "Ooh! I'm _so scared_!"

Refrain. Don't punch him. _God. So hard._

"Your threats mean nothing to me, Herondale. I get what I want. And I want her."

I scoff, fighting to keep calm, finding it, in this moment, the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my entire life. "Clary is smart. She won't fall for whatever you have up your sleeve."

"You know," Sebastian drawls out, "knowing that me liking her bugs you this much makes it all the more pleasurable."

"You're such a prick."

"What's her favorite type of flower?"

"Go to Hell," I snarl.

"Color?"

"I'm serious. Stay away from her."

Sebastian pretends to be momentarily dazed, stroking his chin and then smiling as if a glorious reprieve has graced him. "No can do, pal. I'm sitting with her on Wednesday during college algebra...And then I'll 'accidentally' bump into her, win her over with a cheesy pickup line off of Instagram, and write my phone number on her hand. In Sharpie."

"Good luck," I gritted out.

"Thanks, but I don't need it."

"_Fuck you_."

"Don't you mean Clary?"

His laughter didn't last long, ceasing as soon as he was knocked to the ground by my now throbbing fist.

* * *

><p><strong>I know. I'm really stupid for posting this story, but...when you have inspiration you can't let it slip through your fingers. It won't be this fluffy for long. There will be, in my opinion, some very sad scenes. <strong>

**And this fic also won't be over 30 chapters. I'm thinking of making this more of a three, or four, or even five-shot. Depends on the reviews and response I get. **

**Hopefully you guys have enjoyed the first chapter.**

**Until next time, peace.**


	2. Two Dogs in a Day

**~Clary~**

"Your homework assignment shouldn't be too hard tonight––you're welcome," said Mr. Levine, flashing the class a smile, holding up a stack of yellow papers, fresh out of the copy room. "All you have to do is a scavenger hunt." _Groan_. "There's twenty problems, and, yes, since this is a college algebra class, you'll be required to do some actual math."

Worst teacher ever.

Mr. Levine, looking as smug as ever, slowly strided down each row, licking his thumb every so often to retrieve the next sheet available in his hand. He passed out the assignment as slowly as possible, very much aware that he was taking up our passing period time.

_Come on man. Jace is waiting for me by my locker! _

As soon as he handed me mine, I jumped to my feet, throwing my backpack over my shoulder, and took off in a determined jog. However, when I was nearly a foot away from the door, I collided into a mass of flesh and was sent flying to the ground, ass-first.

I looked up, only then realizing that my glasses were no longer on my face. "What the hell!" I shouted.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I honestly didn't see you there," a familiar voice exclaimed, sounding concerned. _Verlac_. Shit. _This _was the boy that had broken Maia's heart in the tenth grade. This was the boy that might as well should have a tattoo on his forehead that read 'danger' in all capital letters.

I tried to squint, but all I could make out was his blurry, blob of a face growing closer and closer until his hands were secured around my wrists, heaving me up off the floor. As soon as I was back on my feet, I yanked myself away from him and crossed my arms over my chest.

"You know," he drawled out, "without those glasses, you're actually pretty cute."

"_Thanks_." What a compliment.

He hadn't even called me cute, just _pretty _cute.

"And your eyes are simply breathtaking," he breathed.

"Okay," I snapped, "I don't know what you're trying to pull, but it's not going to work, and, in case you haven't all ready noticed this, I can't _see _you!"

I heard him chuckle. "You sure are feisty."

I scoffed.

His blobby hands were suddenly getting closer to my face, but, before I could jerk away, I felt the comfort of my glasses return to me. I blinked a few times before glaring at the boy in front of me.

Black hair. Black eyes. Skin paler than mine. And a blue and purple bruise brandishing his right cheek.

I was surprised that he didn't have more marks.

"Thanks for shoving me to the floor and momentarily blinding me, but, if you don't mind, I have somewhere I need to be," I pressed, trying desperately to make my way around him. I had become especially weary of the situation once I recalled Jace telling me to stay away from him over dinner on Monday. He hadn't gone into detail as to why, but his tone had said it all.

"_Wait_. Clary," Sebastian called, his grip returning around my forearm, forcing me to face him.

"Let me go, Sebastian."

He looked bewildered, as if me not being interested in his charm was absolutely horrifying. "I'm sorry for running into you, I really am, but...there's something I've been wanting to ask you for a while now––"

"No."

"_Clary_. I haven't even asked you anything yet––"

"And I said 'no'. I don't want to hear anything you have to say."

I heard snickers behind me and I twisted around to see that we had drawn a small crowd. Great. Sebastian seemed to have noticed too because his expression went from disbelieving to being furious. He dragged me past the nosey bystanders, a few yards down the hall, until it was just the two of us again.

"Just hear me out!"

I tried to wiggle past him, but, to my surprise, I was held in place––or pinned––against the vending machine behind me. "Come on. Just give me a shot. There's a party at my cousin's house this Friday to celebrate the beginning of our senior year. I heard it's going to be really cool...and it'd be even cooler if you there...as my date."

"No thanks."

I had never been asked out on a date, and, the only boyfriend I've ever managed to land was way back in pre-k. But there was no way that I was going to settle for some lowlife like Verlac, especially since my mind was set on telling Jace how I felt about him this year.

"I don't think you understand. Don't you know who I am?" he barked, outraged.

"Not really. And I have no intention to find out."

Sebastian let out a low growl in frustration. "You're never going to get another offer like this."

"I'll take my chances."

His eyes flashed and his lips pulled back in a snarl, making me want to back down, but, being the stupid girl that I am, I stayed as I was and never let my stare waver. Then he did something that I wasn't expecting: he smiled, almost as if he were relieved.

"I know why you're being such a bitch to me, Clary." I tried to pull out of his grasp, but it only tightened. "I see the way you look at him. At your precious Jace. You like him, don't you?"

"No," I hesitated, trying to deny the truth, to deny something that was so personal and meaningful to me. How the hell would he know something like that?

"You do. You're in love with him."

"No, Sebastian. You don't know what you're talking about."

He ignored me completely. "Well I hate to be the barer of bad news, but your little friend told me that you're nothing more to him than a little sister just the other day. He doesn't love you. He never will. To him, you're absolutely pathetic and, if anything, he feels sorry for you––"

"_Shut up_."

Sebastian snickered. "And you know it too, don't you?"

I felt the backs of my eyes sting, even if it was likely that he wasn't telling the truth. But, somewhere, deep down, his words were getting to me, because, even if I had convinced myself that it was all in my head, Jace had never looked at me like I know I look at him. Not once.

In all the years that we've known each other he'd never tried to kiss me or make a move, like what usually happens between a girl and a guy in the movies. He'd managed to get my hopes up more times than I can count. He'd talked to me about the girls he'd dated, just like I was one of his buddies, he'd even laughed when I admitted to him that I've never been in a relationship before.

_Was I in over my head_?

No.

I couldn't be.

But...

"Oh, I never meant to make you cry," Sebastian said sardonically, in mock sincerity, wiping at a stray tear with his thumb. "It's almost funny that you thought that you had a chance. Look at him and then...look at yourself. You're not beautiful or tall or mysterious. You're an open book, no bigger than an eight year-old boy, and...cute, but nothing more.

"I have to say that I'm proud of myself for helping a girl like you out, even if you don't deserve it. I guess that I'm the bigger person," he laughed, eyeing my body up and down. "_Literally_. Now you don't have to chase after this completely absurd dream of yours anymore."

He looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for a 'thank you', but, what he got was anything but. I had no idea when or how it happened, but he was suddenly stumbling away from me, clutching his already bruised cheek. _I'd slapped him_. Oh my God...

I looked at my hand and then at the enraged teenage boy, who looked as if he were going to explode at any moment. "You...you bitch!" he shouted, pointing at me accusingly. I shied away. "Bitch. You'll be sorry, Clary, more sorry than you'll be when Jace turns you down himself. I swear."

And, with that, he was storming away, leaving me alone in my now deprecating thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>~Jace~<strong>

All throughout human government I was an absolute mess, nearly pulling out my hair. I'd took a picture of Clary's schedule with my phone and memorized it. While she was in college algebra with Verlac, I was here, unable to help or protect her.

I swear to God, it he tries anything...

"Hey, you okay?"

I looked up and spat, "_No_. _I'm not_."

"What's wrong?"

Just when I was about to retort something nasty I cut myself off. I hadn't realized how pretty the girl that was talking to me was until now. _Wow_. "Uh...nothing. Sorry."

"Don't be," she smiled. "It's nice to see a guy with actual feelings for once. At my old school all the guys were the same and were convinced that they were 'too cool' to care."

It was hard to concentrate on what she was saying. She was probably the prettiest girl that I'd ever seen. Perfect olive skin that looked smooth to the touch, big, blue eyes, a friendly smile, brown hair...Had she been at our school this whole time?

She giggled, snapping me out of my daze.

Never had a girl left me speechless.

"I'm Emily. I moved here over the summer from D.C."

"Uh...Hi, I'm Jace. Hi?"

"Oh I know who you are," Emily said. "You're face is plastered on posters all over this place and you're all anybody seems to be able to talk about. This is my third day here and I know everything about you from the girls in my PE class."

"W-why'd you move?" was all I could think about asking.

"My dad's the new principal here."

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "You're Emily...Louthan?"

Soon this Emily girl was all that I could focus on; her voice, the mesmerizing look she kept giving me, how I could talk to her so freely without any fear that'd she'd judge me, how interesting and intriguing and beautiful she was.

Everything about her was perfect.

* * *

><p><strong>~Clary~<strong>

I waited at my locker for Jace. Every day was the same: he'd climb through my window in the morning, we'd share a packet of Poptarts, then he'd drive us to school in his red sports car. Then, after the bell rang, he'd meet me by my locker and we'd hang out at my house until he either had to go home for dinner or until it was too late.

This time, however, I was going to change things up a bit. After my talk with Verlac I had deduced that I wasn't going to wait any longer. Today was going to be the day that I was going to tell Jace about my feelings. I was tired of waiting in the dark and just worrying over all the what-ifs and possibilities. I needed to suck it up and just go for it.

I needed to get my answer.

At 3:45, as usual, Jace rounded the corner to my locker, however, this time, he had a smile on his face. He looked happy. _Too _happy.

What had I missed?

"There she is!" Jace exclaimed as soon as his eyes met mine.

"Hi?"

"Clary...I need to tell you something, and quickly before it's too late."

"Okay...I need to tell you something too––"

"Do you think I can go first?"

"Of course."

Jace was never this excited about anything, so, whatever it was, it must be awesome. Maybe he'd gotten me tickets to see the Goo Goo Dolls in concert?

Jace raked a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "So...there's this girl––" my heart seemed to skip a beat "––and, all this time I've been oblivious and stupid...because I haven't noticed her until now."

Could he be talking about me? His gold eyes were so lively and animate, staring intensely into my own. I felt myself smile and my cheeks warm. _Finally_. This was finally happening.

"She's so beautiful, Clary. And she doesn't look like the other girls. She's unique and natural and _real_. Her hair is curly and she's..." he breathed. "She's out of this world, I tell you. She really tall––"

Wait. What?

_Tall_. _I _wasn't tall.

No.

No.

No.

My heart and stomach seemed to have switched places.

"Her name's Emily Louthan and her dad's the new principal here. I wanted you to know before she comes back; she's getting her stuff and, I hope it's okay, but after I drop you off I was planning on taking her to my house to hang out and do homework. You understand, right? It's only for today."

Jace had never talked about a girl like this before and, to think that I actually thought that he was talking about me made it that much worse.

Afraid that my words would betray me, I nodded, struggling to hold my smile.

Jace hugged me in relief. "She's really cool, Clary––almost as cool as you, and...I think that she could be something special."

"Oh," I managed, trying to laugh, "that's..._awesome_. I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks," Jace smiled. "So...what did you want to tell me?"

I felt the tears coming and my throat starting to burn. I didn't have a doubt in my mind that I couldn't handle meeting this Emily girl, who, in order to make Jace this happy, must be absolutely exquisite. And beautiful.. And perfect. And extraordinary. Everything that I'm not. In comparison she was probably a Barbie doll and I...I was a Cabbage Patch Kid.

"It can wait," I told him, knowing that Jace would never be mine, that he'd most likely laugh in my face if I told him the truth.

"Come on, you can tell me," he urged me. "You can tell me anything." I shook my head and wiped at my nose. "_Hey_, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I promise. Everything's perfect," I swallowed, blinking through tears, "don't worry about dropping me off. I'll just walk––"

Jace' smile vanished. "_Clary_. It's really not a big deal. I always drop you off. Please tell me what's bothering you––"

"It's nothing."

His hands locked around my shoulders. "I'm not letting you go until you tell me."

I offered him a smile and felt a hot tear roll down my cheek. "You should be able to get to know Emily without me there, okay? I want to walk so––"

Jace scoffed. "When have you ever _wanted_ to walkhome, Clary? You never take the stairs, ever, even if they're a hundred feet closer than an escalator. You're lying."

"_I'm not_."

"Yes you are. Now, are you going to be a baby about this, or are you going to tell me what's bothering––"

"Nothing is bothering me!" I shouted, startling Jace and myself. Jace never yelled at me. I never yelled at him. I lowered my voice and held his desperate gaze. "Nothing's bothering me, so...please just...let me go and have fun with Emily."

"Is that what this is about?" Jace asked. "You're afraid that I'm going to replace her with you? Clary, that's _never _going to happen! I promise! You're my best friend and nothing will ever change that."

"No. You don't understand Jace."

"Then help me to understand––"

"No."

"Clary."

"No, Jace."

Jace pulled away from me, his hold disappearing altogether. He looked angry. "You're acting like such a brat."

I shook my head and whirled around in the opposite direction, taking long and determined strides towards the exit, letting the tears fall freely now, avoiding peoples' worried glances as I passed them.

"Clary!" Jace called, his footsteps chasing after mine. "Clary, stop!"

"Just leave me alone, have fun with Emily. And I'll see you tomorrow. At school." I kept walking and, when the doors banged closed behind me, I ran.

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><p><strong>It'll get more dramatic than that. Trust me.<strong>

**Hopefully this chapter and the previous one will keep you interested and eager for the next one. I didn't get a lot of reviews, but I got good response and the reviews that I did receive were really kind and more meaningful than just 'please update'.**

**Sebastian is still going to be in this story, just an FYI. And he's not going to be very nice.**

**Thanks for reading(:**

**Until next time, peace.**

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><p><strong>Oh! And I went back and added a few details to Jace and Sebastian fight in chapter one! Not a lot, but, yeah...<strong>


	3. Stupid Boys

_**Jace~**_

Earlier this morning I had gone over to Clary's place to pick her up––as I always did on a school day. However, my heart had literally plummeted into my gut when I got there: the window was closed. The window that was _always _open, that _I _always climbed through, was closed. And, not only that, but the curtains were also drawn, which were just the other day, if I remember correctly, long forgotten, tucked away in an old FedEx box in her closet.

All last night I had been swamped with the foreignness that my best friend was mad at me. I hadn't been able to eat, sleep, or properly think.

With that being said, my study date with Emily hadn't gone as planned; Clary kept popping up in my mind and I just couldn't stop replaying what had been said, what had happened. It got to a point where I just completely ignored Emily––not intentionally––but noticeably enough for her to get angry. She'd eventually called her mother and had her pick her up, telling me before she left, "Uh...Thanks."

At the time, I would've cared more if not for the more important matter at hand: _Clary_.

When I had woken up, I had been in quite the sour mood. I had blown it with the new principal's daughter, and, the girl that I couldn't go an hour without thinking about and or talking to had declined all of my calls and texts. _  
><em>

And, as I had raced to her house, I had come up with the most reasonable explanation as to why she'd been so angry with me the other day. _I had been an idiot. _Clary and I always hung out together after school, and there I was, springing the news on her that I had met another girl who, if I wasn't imagining things, Clary had undoubtedly got the impression that I'd much rather hang out with.

I knew Clary better than anyone, better than I knew myself, and it had been foolish of me to forget that.

After leaping from my perch in the tree, I had quickly strided towards the front door, not hesitating to knock as loudly as possible, completely ignorant of the fact that her father was still probably sleeping. _I needed to make things right. _However, I had stopped my progress abruptly when the surface my fists had been pounding against disappeared. There, standing in his usual jeans, open-toed sandals, and plaid shirt, had been Clary's father.

"Oh, uh, hey Mr. Fray," I had stuttered, in momentary shock that the man had actually gotten up before noon.

"Ah, Jace," he'd breathed, "Clary and I missed you last night at dinner."

Guilt had clawed at my throat as I'd nodded. "Yeah, I'm really sorry...I just had, um, a lot of homework to take care of. I came here to take Clary to school––is she upstairs?"

Mr. Fray had frowned slightly, confusion evident in his older features. "I took her to school about twenty minutes ago. She said she had a project to take care of."

"For the _first week _of school?" I'd exclaimed in disbelief, now fortifying the knowledge that I'd messed up big time. I had originally thought that I could make it up to her by leaving my place a few minutes early to grab her a Starbucks on the way, but, now...She had been so desperate to avoid me that she'd forced her father to take her instead. _Shit. __  
><em>

"Sorry kid," he'd shrugged before quietly shutting the door and leaving me to drown in my mistake.

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><p><em>Find Clary. Find Clary. Find Clary. <em>

I blindly rounded a corner, my destination obvious, but seemingly impossible to get to. I just wanted to get to Clary's locker, but, of course, there had to be people and obstacles _everywhere_. Laughter filled my ears, but it only made me think of Clary's laugh, loud chatter rattled through me, making me think of her voice. _Please forgive me._

Then, with no more than fifty feet to go, someone was blocking my path. My first instinct was to barrel right through them, but, as my mind cleared slightly and my nose filled with a familiar, sweet perfume, I stopped. Emily. She looked breathtaking, her hair now straightened, her makeup more bold, and her smile more confident.

"Hey Jace," she said.

"Hi," I nodded. Though there was a beautiful girl in front of me, I was still set on the task at hand, my mind boggled with distractions.

Suddenly I felt her fingers trail along my neck, igniting a trail of goosebumps on my hot skin. Emily leaned closer, grabbing a fist full of my shirt as she did so, regaining my attention. "I'm sorry I had to leave so soon last night. It's just...you seemed a little...upset."

"Yeah," I managed, attempted to detach her body from mine, struggling not to give in. "Look, Emily, I'm really sorry, but I have something I need to do."

Her blue eyes widened and her bottom lip pursed. _Oh God._ "What's bothering you, Jace. You can tell me...Maybe I could help."

I shook my head quickly, trying to avert my attention elsewhere so that she'd get the hint. "No––"

"What's wrong?"

I let out a long exhale, knowing that she was going to be very hard to get rid of. But at the same time, it was nice for a girl to care so much about me, it was nice for her to want to be there. I had been a real jerk last night, and yet, here she was, trying to make _me _feel better. "It's my best friend, she's mad at me. I need to make it up to her."

"Your best friend is a girl?" Emily asked, her eyes flashing.

"Yeah––"

"Why's she mad at you? How could anyone be mad at you?"

"It's a long story––but I can't talk to you right now. I'll see you late––"

Emily giggled to my surprise, abruptly wrapping me in her lean arms and pulling me closer. "It's so nice to see a guy who cares so much."

"Emily––"

She leaned away slightly, grinning up at me. "I'll leave you alone so that you can fix things with your little friend––though I'm sure you didn't anything wrong––_if _you make it up to _me_ tonight."

I raised a questionable brow. By agreeing to hang out with Emily tonight, it would totally defeat the purpose of my whole plan; how was I supposed to make Clary forgive me if I was just going to ditch her once again for the same reason? "I'm really sorry, I'd love to hang out with you, but I can't."

"Yes you can," she countered, laughing as if I had actually told her 'yes'.

"_No_, I really can't. Clary––"

She grasped me firmly, forcing us to stand chest to chest. "If she's really your best friend, then she'll understand. Tell her you're sorry, and then be done with it. You're a big boy, you can do whatever you want."

Our position was most agitating, her minty breath mingling with my own, her hooded eyes locked with mine, our hearts beating surely against the other. What made this girl so extraordinary? Why is it that I wanted to listen to her? My best friend was mad at me, and I was determined to get to her, and yet, I couldn't help but become sidetracked. _Why? _Was Emily really capable of changing me? However, if the answer was _yes _to any of my questions about her, why did it, deep down, not feel _right_?

"Okay," I told her, hesitating a little. "Deal."

"Meet me by my locker after school," she winked, inclining forward until her lips lightly brushed against mine. I felt a pleasant shudder run along my spine and I smiled at her genuinely. "There's a a whole lot more where that came from."

Our fingers intertwined, our hands slowly lowering from out chests as Emily persisted to make slow steps backwards. "I promise that you won't be disappointed," she whispered before fully turning away and strutting into the sea of fervent students. I stayed put until I could no longer see her, in a seemingly unbreakable trance.

* * *

><p>As soon as I spotted Clary, I felt a fire erupt within me. Someone was standing next do her. And that Someone was Sebastian Verlac.<p>

I immediately paled and stopped dead in my tracks. _Was _that _why she'd been so upset? _Oh my God, I was a bigger idiot that I'd originally thought. Before I had met Emily the other day, I had been worried sick about Sebastian making a move on Clary, and, at the end of the day, I had totally forgotten to ask her if anything had happened between them. _Had he hurt her? Why the hell was he standing next to her now? _

The closer I got, the more conversation of theirs I was able to hear:

"...I said, leave me alone," Clary snapped," in the process of unloading a couple books from her locker.

"Oh come on, don't be like that," Sebastian pressed, his hand reaching for her, slowly leaving a trail along her arm before she jumped away from him, seemingly angry. "I forgive you for the other day," he told her, earning a scoff in return.

"Take the hint," she deciphered, "I don't want anything to do with you. There are other poor girls out there that would be more than happy to take you up on your offer, but I'm not one of them."

Sebastian suddenly straightened up his stance, his demeanor no longer calm in collected, his expression emitting his anger. Before I knew what was happening, he was snatching up Clary's dainty elbow in his massive hand––in comparison to her––and forcing her to look at him, slamming her locker shut.

"Okay, listen here––"

"If you have any logic whatsoever in that head of yours, I'd leave her the hell alone," I growled at the other boy, now within reaching distance of them. To see him treat Clary so poorly, even if he hadn't initiated anything too major, was enough to make me want to rip him apart, limb from limb.

Sebastian sighed, leaning into Clary slightly and bowing his head before pushing himself off of the wall next to her to face me. I watched intently as his hold on her disappeared, shooting him a lethal glare afterwards. "Listen you asshole, if ever so much as see you looking at her again, I'll––"

"I'm really not interested in hearing anymore of your pathetic threats, Herondale," Sebastian sneered.

"Leave Clary alone. I mean it."

"You know," he drawled out, knowing just what to say to put me on even more edge, "I would, but...I really don't want to. You see, your little friend here is a challenge, a nice change compared to all the other girls that just _fall at my feet_. I know Clary is dying to do the same, and until she does, I can't leave her alone."

I heard Clary scoff and caught a glimpse of her rolling her eyes.

"So...You're just going to 'win her over' by stalking her?" I deadpanned, trying not to let my anger show through and inevitably failing miserably.

He chose to ignore me and turned to Clary. "Save me a seat tomorrow in college algebra, doll-face." After tossing her a wink, he strided into me, making sure that our shoulders would hit, and continued on down the hall.

The two of us kind of just stood there for a few moments, both trying to grasp what had just happened. "Clary," I began, "you need to tell me if Sebastian––"

"Don't worry about him," she said, "he's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"That may be, but I also think he wants to...take advant––"

She held her hands up and her eyes widened. "_No_. Don't say anything."

I smiled down at her, "You're so innocent."

"And you're so corrupt."

My laughter filled the space between us and I gently lifted her chin with my hand, forcing her eyes to meet mine dead on. "I'm so sorry about yesterday. I'm such an idiot."

Clary offered up a tiny grin––not her real one––and shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"Cla––"

"Don't worry about it. I was just in a bad mood and...Things just weren't going my way." Was she lying? She sounded sincere, but I could also tell that there was more behind her words, that she was definitely hiding something.

"You should've told me about Sebastian."

"Why?"

I scoffed. "_Because _he's a ticking time bomb and I don't want to see you get hurt. The guy's bad news, Clary, and he's...well he's just very unpredictable."

"He won't hurt me."

The thing was, though, that I knew that he would hurt her. If she continued to refuse him, I knew that he'd explode and possibly end up hitting or doing something worse to her. But Clary didn't understand that. She always saw the good in others, no matter how scary they could truly be.

Clary was so pure and down to earth that I didn't ever want to have to think about someone ruining that for her. I'll say it again and probably a thousand times more, my best friend is just a goodhearted, loving, passionate, and brilliant person that deserves the world. I won't let anyone get in the way because, one day, I know that she'll do something great, and she'll need her unmatchable spirit to do so.

"And about Emily––" I started, before getting abruptly cut off.

"You don't have to explain anything, Jace," Clary said softly. "I'm happy that she seems to make you happy...And, as your best friend, that's all that I could ever hope for."

Without giving it a second thought, I pulled her into a bone crushing hug, not taking into account how small she really was. "Can't...Breath!" she stifled no more than a few seconds later.

I laughed slightly before pulling away. "You are amazing, did you know that?"

"Yeah, I may have heard it once or twice."

"Modest are we?" I teased, dragging her into my side so that my arm could fit comfortably around her shoulders. "Thanks for being so understanding, but...don't ever ignore me like that again. When I saw that you had your window shut I nearly had a heart attack, and it didn't help that you denied all of my calls and texts."

I felt her shrug. "It must've been on silent?"

"I'm sure."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Clary~<strong>_

Jace had been on my mind all last night, causing me to toss and turn, boggling my mind. I was literally at war with myself, a part of me battling guilt, and the other part drowning in the hurt that came with Jace finding someone that he genuinely seems to like. All of the years of liking him, of seeing him date girls that he never cared about, of getting my hopes up, were all coming to a tragic end.

I wanted to hate him.

But I still loved him more than anything.

I wanted to be mad at him.

But, wasn't I supposed to be his best friend?

Why should my feelings for him have to change anything?

If he really felt the same way about me, then...he would've made a move by now. It was heartbreaking, more so every time I replayed that simple truth inside my head, but I couldn't be me without him in my life. I couldn't be happy. We were best friends, and, even if my feelings for him probably wouldn't ever go away, I was going to have to try to hide my selfish wants if we were going to continue to be as close as we are.

And so, I lied to him. I lied when I told him that nothing was wrong, that he shouldn't worry, that I was okay with him being with Emily.

He was happy and that was all that mattered.

I was just going to have to deal with it.

* * *

><p>I looked up from my book upon the loud crash no more than a foot away. A beautiful girl with glossy brown hair and big, blue eyes stood on the other side of the table, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. "Mind if I sit here?"<p>

"Oh, no. That's fine," I smiled.

She shot me a tight-lipped one in return and her eyes narrowed. There was an air about her that I didn't like. I watched as she hastily opened up her textbook and started to write sloppy notes in her composition, making me flinch every time her pen hit paper. "Are, um, are you all right?" I asked carefully.

She immediately slammed her notebook shut and slid the books in front of her to the side, leaning across the table on her forearms. "So, you're Clary?"

"Yes-s. Who are you?"

She scoffed. "Oh please. You may fool others into thinking you're sweet and innocent, but not me."

"Excuse me?" I felt my eyes widen as my jaw opened slightly. _Who the hell was this girl?_ "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't," she sneered. "Look, as long as you stay out of my way, we won't have a problem."

"A proble––? Stay out of your way? What did I ever do to you? I don't even think that we know each other––"

She abruptly stood up and gathered her belongings, meeting my confound gaze with a harsh glare. "If you know what's best for you, and you want to stay pretty, then I suggest you do as I say." And, with that, she sent me a wink. "Until next time."

Only when her heels no longer _clacked _inside my ears was I able to breath again.

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><p><strong>So sorry for the long wait! I hope this chapter was okay––I know it wasn't very exciting, but just you wait until next chapter. I'm actually pretty excited for you guys to read it.<strong>

**Please review and tell me what you guys think will happen next(:**

**Until next time, peace.**

* * *

><p><strong>Will edit soon!<strong>


	4. The She-Beast

**_Clary~_**

The moment the bell rang, I was on a mission. A mission to find Jace and tell him all about my little encounter with—whoever the hell that was. I'd never seen her before, not around school, not around the neighborhood, not anywhere. So, she had no reason to hate me, not unless I didn't know her and she knew me and, of course, had a tangible reason to spit fire.

My God. She was horrible, awful, disgusting, vile—

And..._she was all over my best friend_.

My determined strides turned into wet noodles, the blood in my veins was ice cold, my eyes widened, my heart sunk lower than the Titanic. _No_. No. No. No. NO!

Jace's Emily was the same girl that had threatened me in the library for no reason. Jace's Emily was wrapped up in his passionate embrace, sticking her tongue down his throat, pulling aggressively at his hair, turning him into an obedient, gutless pile of mush. Jace's Emily was so not deserving of being _his _Emily. She wasn't right in the head—and I wasn't just saying that because she never had to do anything to get Jace to like her. She never had to wait years and years, waiting for him to look her in the eye and confess that he felt the same way. She never even had to bat an eyelash. All she had to do was look pretty and wow him with mundane words that, coming from anyone else, would have had no effect over the great and might Jace Wayland.

It all clicked into place. _Look, as long as you stay out of my way, we won't have a problem. _

I now knew that she meant business. That her hating me wasn't so out of the blue after all.

She couldn't have known my best friend for very long and already she was possessive, so desperate to keep him under his spell that she was seeking out any possible threat—even though I wasn't even close to being a threat. If I were, I wouldn't still be pining over Jace's unrequited affection after God only knows how long. Emily was gorgeous. Disgustingly gorgeous on the outside and just plain disgusting on the inside. And she has proven herself to me that'd she'd stoop as low as to intimidate a five-foot, close-to-nothing-pound, frizzy haired nobody, who had absolutely nothing on her. Who was absolutely no competition. Who was about as menacing to her as a mouse was to a lion.

I was okay with Jace finding a special someone. I had...accepted it. But to discover who his 'special someone' was...Well, I was no longer accepting.

I was about to turn the other direction—after clearly seeing that Jace was busy—but then I heard him call my name. "Clary!"

My eyes squeezed shut as I tried to prepare myself for what was to come. _This was not going to be good. _Deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. In. With clenched fists, I slowly turn back around to face the she-beast and her current victim: my best friend. My Jace. My everything. My go-to for whenever I needed a pick-me-up. My twelve-o'clock shoulder to cry on. My Jace...who wasn't mine any longer—he'd never been mine. Ever. It had all been in my head.

How stupid was I? Did I honestly believe that this was _The Princess Diaries_? That I'd turn into his Cinderella one day? That my worn down Chuck Taylors would ever become glass slippers? I was no princess. I was nothing special and I never would be. And I was, above anything else that was downright pitiful, undeserving of a guy so beautiful that made Brad Pitt look like the kid from _Home Alone _all grown up.

"Hey...Jace," I breathed, pretending not to notice She-Beast—ahem, I mean _Emily_. But, how could I not? She was like a flippin' supermodel! God I hated her.

Jace was noticeably flushed and out of breath. His hair was tousled—and not the way I liked—and his swollen lips (ugh. Ew.) were pulled back into a brilliant smile. "Sorry—I was going to meet you at your locker after school, but Emily asked me earlier to meet me at her locker—and before I really made a decision," he laughed, "here she was."

I nodded, not even bothering to pretend to be happy. He didn't seem to notice.

Then his eyes suddenly went wide and he grinned even larger—was this _really _Jace? "Oh my gosh! I'm such an idiot—you don't even know who 'she' is!" It all happened in slow motion; Jace placed his hand on Emily's lower back and gestured from her to me. "Clary, I'd like you to meet Emily. Emily, meet Clary."

I waited for Emily to pull out a pen from the outfit she wore—that left nothing to the imagination—and stab me in the neck repeatedly, but instead she flashed me an award winning smile. "It's so nice to meet you, Clary!" Emily said, as if we were meeting for the first time. As if she hadn't threatened me earlier, not even a few hours ago. I wanted to gasp. To tell Jace all about how fake she was. To punch her lights out.

But, who was I kidding?

I returned her sweet facade—not without any trouble—and waved shyly, playing along the best I could. "Hi."

"Jace has already told me so much about you! I'm so glad to hear that you two made up—I know how my best friend got when I dated this one guy back at my old home. She'd been so jealous. It was pathetic, really." To Jace she was coming across as an angel, and, though she'd literally just called me pathetic, I'm sure that he didn't even realize. He was too entranced by the smoothness of her voice and the beauty her pore-less skin radiated. But I wasn't fooled. Not in the slightest. Beneath her bright, blue eyes, she was daring me to 'get in her way', daring me to ruin her reign over Jace, daring me to speak up and express how angry and frustrated and _hurt _I was. "Nothing against you, though," she smirked. "I know how hard it can be."

I blushed. In anger. In embarrassment. In disbelief that Jace thought she was this wonderful person when she was showing her true colors right in front of him.

I nodded, tight-lipped.

"This is great!" Jace exclaimed, holding Emily even closer, and then going as far as to reach out and ruffle my hair. As if I were no more than a five-year-old. As if I were a dog.

Emily smiled at me all too knowingly.

"It's so great that my two favorite girls in the whole world are finally getting to know each other," he carried on, oblivious to mine and Emily's silent exchange.

I wanted to cry—so now Emily and I were tied? Now I was neck and neck with a girl he'd literally just met?

Pretty soon I'd be in second place. Pretty soon Jace would forget all about me.

"I know!" Emily exclaimed, turning to look at Jace. "Clary is even cuter than you told me she was, baby. I don't even think the little girl I babysat the other day is that tiny—and she's ten!" She was putting on a brilliant performance. _Fake_. So. So. So FAKE.

I wanted to shy away when she directed her attention at me once again. "You know what you remind me of?" She waited for me to respond, but I just stared at her blankly, my cheeks and neck and ears on fire. "My mother has this huge stuffed animal collection—I know right, how embarrassing. She's _way _to old to still be carrying around toys from her childhood, but I still can't help but love her. Anyways, she has this Raggedy Ann doll—the resemblance between you and that _thing _is startling, e_specially _when you blush like that."_  
><em>

I wanted to fall off the face of the Earth.

"Clary is adorable," Jace agreed. How ignorant he was. How I hated him in that moment. "She's always been the smallest one in our class."

Emily's smile was erased. Though what Jace said in no way made me feel better, if anything just made me feel worse, he'd sounded genuine when he called me 'adorable'. _Adorable_to me was a slap in the face. _Adorable _to Emily, when it wasn't directed towards her, was a threat. I saw her eyes flash and then narrow, targeting my already beat down self. "_So _cute," Emily repeated, laughing as fake as you could get. "You know, Clary, I envy you. Not only are you _adorable_, but you must be pretty confident, too. Not even _I _would wear glasses like yours. I think I saw the same pair at a dollar store back in D.C."

Jace's smile suddenly turned into a frown. I was too busy trying to keep it together to notice. "Emily. Enough."

"What?" She was laughing, acting innocent, twisting her lips together. She held all the power in the palm of her hands. And she knew it. "I'm just saying that I admire her—it's not like I could pull off something like that."

"Yeah, well, it was nice meeting you Emily," I said hurriedly, spinning away from the 'happy' couple. I had to get out of there.

"Clary, wait!" Jace called. "I'm still giving you a ride home—"

I didn't bother turning around, I just kept walking. "No. That's fine. It's not like I live that far."

"Nonsense," I heard Emily say—now closer than where I left her. I suddenly felt a cold hand grip my wrist, forcing me to stop my progress. Regrettably, I turned just enough to see the She-Beast. She was _touching _me. "Don't be silly, Clary. Jace told me that your house is on the way—we'd be more than happy to drop you off."

Her back was to Jace and this gave her an opportunity to shoot me a shameless look, one that said "cooperate or you'll regret it".

I nodded slowly, swallowing down the ache in my throat and blinking quickly, hoping that my eyes weren't a dead giveaway that I was upset. Like I said, I was an ugly crier. "Okay," I managed.

Emily let go, but not without giving me a firm, if not painful squeeze.

"Let's go Jace," Emily called, reaching her hand out for her new boyfriend to take. Jace took it gratefully and sent me a smile, one that I did not return. I followed the duo, dragging my feet behind me, looking down, trying to distract myself by counting all the tiles I stepped on. When we reached the front entrance, Jace, trying to be a gentleman, held the door open for both Emily and me.

I waited for her to go through first, but she just looked back at me expectantly. "Come on, Clary," she said. "Don't be shy."

I cautiously stepped around her, half expecting her to trip me and send me flat on my face. That didn't happen. But what did, in my book, was much worse. Just as I was about to safely clear the small space, one of my hips was bumped and the other was sent flying into the metal of the door frame.

"Oh my gosh!" Emily gasped, immediately reaching to help me upright. "I'm so sorry!"

It didn't hurt enough to cause me excruciating pain, no, definitely not but there'd definitely be a bruise there seeing as I was as delicate as a flower petal, unfortunately, and I was mortified. I felt weak and helpless—like I really was a Raggedy Ann. I shrugged her hands off me, too embarrassed to look her in the eye. "It's fine."

"You okay, Clary?" Jace asked, concern lacing his tone, suddenly at my side.

I nodded quickly, trying to be evasive. Unwilling to talk to him.

Emily was abruptly shoving us apart as easily as ripping paper, careless and not at all bothered, "I call shot gun!" she shouted, taking the lead.

I knew Jace was trying to get me to look at him. I knew he knew that I was upset. But I also knew that he knew not to push me, and I was going to take full advantage of that, even if this situation wasn't his fault. Even if I shouldn't be blaming him—but, how could I not? Jace was so blinded by a pretty face that he just stood there and let her hammer me with her intentionally mean words. He used to laugh at girls like Emily to me—he used to call them 'fake' and 'petty' and said that they only got guys that were absolutely desperate. And yet, here he was.

I watched as Emily took the passenger seat—my seat—and was aware of her predatory glare the entire time Jace helped me into the back of his car. Just before the three of us took off, Emily even went as far as to flip down the sun visor hanging over her head, using its mirror to seek me out. She knew she had won. She knew that I got the message. She knew better than anyone, better than me, what she was capable of and she was definitely satisfied.

She knew I didn't stand a chance. And just to rub it in further, she laced her hand with Jace's free hand and displayed them on the consul for me to see.

* * *

><p><strong>SO SORRY FOR THE HORRIBLE WAIT! Hopefully this chapter wasn't too horrible!<strong>

**Please review(:**

**Until next time, peace.**

* * *

><p><strong>Will edit soon.<strong>


	5. The Choice

**~Clary~**

He looked so happy. And so did I. His hair was too long, acting like an unwanted curtain to his eyes—and yet the smile on his face was undeniable. Only now did I realize that at the time when the picture had been taken, during the summer before going in to our Sophomore year, Jace hadn't been looking at the camera, but at me. He'd been looking at _me_. My cheeks had been badly sunburned and my hair had been in an disasterous excuse for a messy bun, off-centered and drooping down the right side of my head, the ponytail trying to conceal my mass of curls threatening to snap, and my glasses—_oh_, don't even get me started on my glasses. They made my eyes—that were crossed goofily—look enormous. Like two green moons about to fall right out of the sky.

Jace's best-guy friend Jordan had taken the picture, if I remember correctly. The three of us, Jordan's now-girlfriend Maia, and a few other friends of ours had decided to go on one last 'adventure' before school started up again. Of course, at the time, none of us could drive and the ones that could didn't have cars yet, so we had to stay close to home. But that hadn't stopped us from having a great time. We'd gone out to lunch, scavenging through our pockets for every last nickel and dime to pay for it, then we'd raided every single shop nearby and messed around like monkeys after having just escaped from the zoo. And then, to finish the day off, we'd gone to the park—where the picture had eventually been taken.

One picture, a day's worth of memories. I smiled, lost in reverie, thinking of the good old days when my crush on Jace had been so minute that I didn't care who the hell he dated; he could've dated a forty year old woman over me and I wouldn't have cared—well, actually I would have because that's just wrong, but... You get the point. Back then, Jace hadn't cared if I was a girl; he'd spit water at me in a fancy restaurant, would throw popcorn at me half-way through a movie, would shove me out of the way to go inside first, and would throw me over his shoulder and into the pool when I'd refuse to go in myself. Of course I didn't want that _now_, but I wanted to be as close as we'd been when life had been so much simpler.

Now Jace was hyperaware that I was a girl. He'd ask the waiter to fill my glass up with water when it was almost empty, he'd put the popcorn in the middle of us and would let me grab a handful before he grabbed one for himself, even if we went for it at the same time. He'd _always _let me go first. Now, he held the door open for me, now he hugged me as if he were afraid that I'd break in half, now he actually thought before he said anything to me, as if afraid he'd offend me or hurt my feelings. He was such a gentleman, and I appreciated that, and he went out of his way to beat up creeps like Sebastian whenever they got near me, but at the same time it didn't matter to him that his girlfriend was a total bitch to me and already building a wall between us. If he was so adamant to make sure my wellbeing never got corrupted, then why on earth was he eating out of Emily's hand? He was there when Emily had called my glasses cheap trash, and what had he done about it? _Nothing_.

It didn't matter if Jace was willing to punch Sebastian in the face hard enough to induce him into a coma if he was just going to let his new, trophy girlfriend claw into me with her contention without doing anything to put an end to it. Why couldn't he just punch _Emily_? Now, I know that he'd probably go to prison if he did that—I'd only been exaggerating. Kinda.—but he could at least do _some_thing. But he probably never will because she's a beautiful, tall, smooth-talking, walking sex magnet.

_Why _God? Why give monsters like Emily that kind of power over men? Over my best friend that I'm irrevocably in love with?

I placed the photo back on my nightstand, sighing in defeat, and snuggled under my covers, grabbing the book I was supposed to be done with by tomorrow for English. I only had about thirty pages left, but it was already eleven-o'clock and I was more tired than usual. Just before I could open to the page I'd left off on, my phone vibrated to the right of me, illuminating the the blanket it was underneath. "This better be important," I muttered under my breath, lazily retrieving my phone to see if it was worth the interruption.

It was a text. From Jace.

_You still awake?_

I rolled my eyes before typing a quick response. _I am but I'm reading._

_For pleasure?_

_For English, Jace._

I wanted to ignore his next message, pretend like I didn't care anymore what he had to say to me—whether it be in person or via text message, but I was only kidding myself. I couldn't even look at my book until my phone began to vibrate again. I was too eager when it came to Jace, even after he'd been a big, fat jerk to me. I needed to get over him. Like soon. Like now.

_Emily says she likes you_

I nearly laughed out loud and had to swallow back bile. That bitch. _Okay_, I texted back.

_..Do you like her?_

_She's fine. _For the spawn of satan she's fine. Just fine.

His response was almost instant. _Are you okay?_

I wanted to answer truthfully and tell him to eat dirt with Emily, but I knew that wouldn't play out too nicely, especially since Emily had Jace wrapped around her finger and she'd probably be one of those girlfriends that checked their boyfriends phones whenever they weren't looking; she'd probably check Jace's phone even if he _was _looking.

_I'm fine_, I sent, rolling my eyes, my cheeks flushing with anger.

_You don't sound it._

_You can't hear me. How would you know._

_Clary..._

_Jace..._

_Do you want to hang out tomorrow? Maybe go see a movie after school's out?_

Before Jace started seeing Emily, I would've jumped out of bed, turned on the radio and danced around my room like a madwoman, squealing with excitement, but when I texted him _I'm busy_, it wasn't just because I didn't want to avoid him and the possibility of Emily tagging along, it was because I truly didn't _want _to. I loved Jace, it was undeniable and I'd probably never be able to stop, but just because I loved him didn't mean I was willing to drop whatever it was I was doing, even fake a stomach ache to get out of class to meet him in the music room like I'd done so many times before, if he wasn't going to respect me enough, let alone even acknowledge the fact that he'd watched me get hurt, knowing very well he was partially to blame, and not apologize. He was so oblivious and infuriating, I swear...

_I miss hanging out with you_, was the next message I read from him. If he did, he sure didn't act like it.

I scoffed to myself, trying push the image of his 'sad' face away. I could see it so vividly in my mind that it was a struggle not to tell him that I missed hanging out with him too; how could you turn away from his golden eyes widening, glistening over, his lips tugging downward self-consciously, his brows furrowing as if he were a wounded puppy, lost and confused as to why anyone could possibly be mad at him? How? _Gosh_. Might as well make Jace undeniably cute, too, God. It was a good thing that he wasn't really standing front of me, or else I would've tossed my dignity out the window and welcomed him back without another question asked.

_I'm sure Emily would be more than happy to go with you if you asked_, I texted him.

_Emily's not my best friend, though._

Trying to sucker me, huh? _Not _going to work, bud. _You'd have more fun with her anyways_, I retaliated, ignoring his last message altogether.

_No I wouldn't Clary. She's not you and she never will be. Okay? I'll pay for the movie and for the popcorn and I'll be the perfect gentleman. If you don't want to go to a move we can do whatever you want._

I sighed. He made it so hard to be mad at him sometimes. It wasn't fair.

_I'll think about it_, I sent him after a beat, a tinge of regret pooling in my stomach.

_Great. Meet me by my locker and we'll be on our way(;_

Cocky bastard. I rolled my eyes and laughed despite myself, sending him a quick goodnight text before throwing my phone to the foot of my bed and finally tuning in to read my book.

* * *

><p>After a day of successfully avoiding the She-Beast, eating lunch with Jace, Jordan, Maia, half the football team, a dorky friend name Simon and his girlfriend Isabelle—lucky for me Emily didn't have the same lunch period as us—and acing an impossible Spanish test, I was on my way to my locker a few minutes early before the final bell rang.<p>

I was actually looking forward to seeing a movie with Jace—_yes_, I'd finally agreed to go, but only after he'd promised to take me to dinner afterwards. I returned my books to their rightful shelf, retrieved my backpack, shut the crapy locker door and turned to find Jace—but someone was there. She-Beast was there. _Oh God. _She stood before me with her twig-thin arms crossed over her generously under-clothed chest, her left hip jutting out, a tell-tale sign that she meant business, and a nasty scowl taking over her too-perfect features; jealous, overbearing, bitchy girlfriend was not a good look for her.

She stared down at me coolly and shook her head in undisguised disgust. "So," she said, her voice painfully sharp, "I asked Jace if he wanted to come over, you know to hang out like what normal boyfriends and girlfriends do, maybe eat dinner and put a face to my father's name—only to find out that he's taking _you _to the movies. _And dinner_."

I twisted my lips together; she was talking to me as if I were a dog that got into the pantry and ate half the food. What made her so superior and gave her the audacity, the _right_, to treat me as if I was lower than her, as if she were a shinning star in the sky and I a mere dust particle on some homeless guy's jacket? "We're friends, Emily," I told her, keeping my voice level. I was tired of her. "You're Jace's girlfriend. I'm Jace's _friend_. I'm not trying to get in your way or steal him away from you; we've been friends for a long time. There isn't anything romantic going on between us and there never will be anything romantic going on between us." _I'll say... _"You can hate me all you want, and make fun of me, but there's no reason for you to be angry over who Jace hangs out with other than you—"

She scoffed and narrowed her eyes. "You're lying through your teeth," she seethed, taking a daring step forward and backing me against my locker. "I've asked around, _little _Clary," she said, almost in a mocking manner. "Everyone knows that you're in _love _with Jace. _Everyone_. They see you for what you try to pass yourself off as; a little, innocent girl pathetically pinning over her best friend. They think you're the 'sweetest thing in the world'. They feel sorry for you. But I _don't_." Her face now hovered inches apart from my own. Her perfume was overbearing—she probably sprayed half the bottle before she met up with me with the intention to visit _Jace_ afterwards. "You may have big eyes and freckles," she spat, "and you may _look _harmless, you may look as if you're okay with Jace ignoring you, but listen here: if Jace had any interest in you at all, he would've done something about it by now. Don't you think? The only reason he still has any association with you whatsoever is because he feels terrible that your whore mother died—" I visibly flinched and she smiled evilly, encouraged to continue "—and he's afraid you'll do something reckless without him in your life.

"You're a burden to him. The _reason _he's never asked you to be more than 'friends' is because he doesn't even want to be friends with you; he will _never _like you how he likes me. I want you out of his life. I want you to stop dragging him down with you. I want you to stay. _The_ _hell_._ Away_."

Then a manicure-hand was reaching towards me and I recoiled backwards, afraid she was going to hit me, but instead she yanked my glasses off. As the world went blurry, I heard her throw them to the ground, I heard her stomp on them with her high-heel stilettos, and not only could I hear what she did next, but I could _feel _my glasses being kicked at me, bouncing limply against my jean-clad shins.

"HEY!"

Unable to see much, I looked towards the source of the much welcomed intruder. It wasn't Jace unfortunately—he hadn't been able to witness the cruelness of his girlfriend towards me—but it was still someone I knew. Someone that could tell Jace without it resulting in my head being severed from my body. _Jordan_. And he wasn't alone.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Maia practically screamed at Emily, as I busied myself with trying to find my glasses. Man was I blind without them. My eyes burned with unshed tears and my cheeks were hot, my movements disoriented and shaky; I could hardly keep it together. "Get away from her!" I felt Maia and Jordan stand next to me, opposing Emily, and I could almost see their enraged expressions. Suddenly a hand was being placed on my shoulder and I stood up, receiving my very much broken glasses in one of my open hands. "Are you okay, Clary?" Maia asked me, her voice softening as she guided my fingers around the no-good frames

I nodded vigorously, staring down at the black blob. Even though I couldn't exactly see them, I knew that they were beyond repair and that it'd be silly to put them back on again. How was I going to be able to see normally without them? I didn't have the money to get them replaced, and knowing this made trying not to cry that much harder.

"It was an accident," I heard Emily say, laughing in a friendly manner. "Right, Clary?"

My lack of response was answer enough and I glared at where I thought her face would be.

"It wasn't an accident, you bitch," Maia snapped. "Jordan and I saw the whole thing."

"As soon as Jace hears about this, your ass is going to be dumped," Jordan said confidently. "The last person who messed with Clary ended up missing school for an entire week." I knew Jordan was lying—I didn't get picked on or anything and the only people that bothered me at all were idiots like Sebastian—but it still fortified his threat satisfyingly, and, at that moment, I wished more than anything to see the look on Emily's face. She'd been caught redhanded. _Finally_. I bet she knew this, too; surely Jace couldn't ignore Jordan, especially if it had anything to do with me getting bullied, even if the bullier was his I-can-do-no-wrong girlfriend.

"I swear it was an accident," Emily said after a moment's hesitation. She was out of breath and her voice was unusually high, on the defense-mode.

Maia laughed without humor. "Was it an accident, too, when you stomped on the glasses _you_ pulled from her face and dropped to the ground? Did you 'accidentally' kick them at her?"

Knowing her cover was blown, Emily turned into the Emily only I knew. "Like Jace will believe anything you three have to say," she said menacingly. "He's in love with me after only three days of knowing me. He trusts—"

"Jace loves and trusts Clary now more than he will ever love and trust you," Jordan backfired. "When he hears about this, you're going to wish you never moved here."

She barked out a sharp laugh. "Jace has seen me be nothing but nice to Clary. The last thing he'd believe is that I broke her glasses one purpose."

"We've known Jace since we were kids," Jordan spat. "_I _know Jace and I _know _that he won't fall for any lie you come up with in that twisted little head of yours. Jace isn't anything if he's not loyal to his friends."

"My dad's the principal," Emily suddenly said, sounding slightly panicked, though regaining her earlier confidence with each word she spoke. "And he won't be too happy to hear that you three are messing with me for no reason just because I'm dating your guys' best friend and you're all jealous—"

"Ha!" Jordan laughed.

"Your daddy won't be to happy to hear what you did to Clary, either," Maia retaliated.

"He'll never believe any of you—"

Emily was interrupted by the boy in question himself. Jace. "What's going on? Clary—what happened to your glasses?"

"Em—" was all I could get out before I myself got interrupted.

"Clary and I accidentally bumped in to each other and they fell," Emily said quickly, morphing her voice into that of a concerned, innocent girl's, undoubtedly putting on the facade that Jace had grown to know...and _love_. "It was all my fault—and I told her that'd I replace them with my own money, but...she's convinced that I did it on purpose," she exclaimed, sadness and fake tears seeping into her sentiment. "Maia and Jordan think so, too."

"Jace, the bitch is totally lying," Jordan said.

"_Don't _you dare call her a 'bitch'," Jace snapped, making my eyes widen. "Of course Emily didn't break Clary's glasses on purpose. You are all being ridiculous—"

"Jace," Maia practically shouted, "yes, she did. We saw the whole thing; Emily was shouting at Clary—she had her trapped against her own locker—just as Jordan and I were leaving Mrs. Bucher's classroom. Then she, for no reason at all, took Clary's glasses. She threw them to the ground, _stepped _on them, and then kicked them at her. Emily did it on purpose," Maia breathed angrily, "and Clary did _nothing _to her."

Emily let out a fake sob. "They're lying Jace. They hate me and I don't know why! What did I ever do to you guys?"

I waited to hear Jace's response, praying to God, if he was even looking out for me anymore, to make Jace see the truth and choose _me_. It wasn't Jace who spoke next, however. "I swear Jace, I swear that I didn't do _anything _wrong, not intentionally. I was on my way to invite Clary to spend the night this weekend, as a way to get to know her better, and-and she told me that she didn't want spend any more time with me than she had to, and tried to walk away. I should've just let her go—it was my only real fault that I tried stopping her. And then she pushed me away from her and the next thing you know her glasses are broken and I'm getting yelled at. I didn't do anything Jace—I would _never _lie to you."

I stepped forward, seeking out Jace's head of golden hair. I knew I was looking straight into his eyes. I could _feel _it. With as much conviction I could muster, I pleaded with him, begged him, cried for him to believe _me_, to believe the girl he'd known his whole life. His best friend. "Jace, you know _I _would never lie to you. Even before I met Emily she found me in the library and threatened me to stay away from you." I wished that I could see his face. "She's insulted me—she did it right in front of you just the other day and you were completely oblivious. Jordan and Maia aren't lying to you. _I_'m not lying to you. She didn't come to my locker to invite me to a slumber party," I said, a tear spilling over the side of my face. "She came here because she was angry that I was going to see a movie with you; she thinks I want to steal you away from her. She's convinced. And then she broke my glasses because she could. Because no one was around to stop her. For no reason, Jace.

"The moment I found out it was _Emily _that you were so excited to tell me about, I nearly..." I trailed off, shaking my head slightly. "I didn't tell you sooner because you were so happy; you've never talked about any other girl the way you talked about Emily. I thought I could deal with it, as long as I'd still have you in my life as my best friend, but now she's trying to turn you against me. She wants me out of your life—if this," I said, my voice cracking, holding up my now broken glasses, "isn't proof enough, then...I don't know what is."

It was silent and waiting to hear the boy I love's response was literally like holding my breath underwater and not knowing how much longer I could last; I couldn't see anything, I couldn't _do _anything but wait. "Clary..." Jace said, trailing off. "I don't understand—"

At that I completely broke down and started balling, not even caring about who was around to see me. I was almost positive that by now the remaining members of school were all gathered around us, their interests bubbling over, texting their friends to come back and enjoy the show. _He didn't believe me_. I didn't have to see his face to know that Jace was torn, torn between his best friend for infinite years and the girl he'd just met days ago. His voice, not unkind but still noticeably unsure, was answer enough.

"Choose," I screamed at him. "Choose right now. _Me _or her. _Choose_."

He hesitated, his breathing hitching. "Clary—"

"Choose, Jace, goddammit!"

"Clary—I...I can't do that..."

I laughed cruelly and shook my head, wiping at my cheeks. "You can't choose between me and that _bitch_?" I'm sure everyone was surprised; I've _never_ sworn aloud. "I'm your best friend, Jace! You're basically just throwing that all away...I'm always there for you," I cried, becoming hysterical, my breathing turning erratic. "_She _only just got into your life... and I wish she never had...You're so _blind_. God, you're such a jerk. You're the biggest asshole I know."

"Clary," Jace said almost instantly. I could feel him stepping towards me. "You _are _my best friend. I love you to death...But Emily's my girlfriend—you can't ask me to choose between you guys. I can't—"

"_Yes _you can!" I screamed back at him.

"Why are you doing this, Clary?" Jace sputtered, disbelieving. "Emily _wants _to be your friend. She's making an effort...And you're so stubborn and set against her that you won't even give her a chance. Why can't we _all _be friends? You're being irrational—"

I looked up and shook my head. "Oh my _God_."

"Enough," Jace snapped, no longer trying to be understanding and calm. "You're my best friend, yes, but you sure as hell aren't acting like it. Stop being like _this_. You don't have to be jealous, Clary. You're not being replaced. If you can't accept that I'm with Emily, do _not _try to make me turn against her, just deal with it. I can't just choose between you—"

"You just did," I said, concealing my angry tears. "You chose her. You _know _that I would never lie to you, especially not about something like this. Two other people—your friends—are standing behind me and yet you _still _don't believe me. If you're going to choose her over me, even though you _know _me and how I am, then there's no reason for me to stand in your way any longer."

"Cla—"

"I'm done being ignored. I'm done listening to you talk about girls to me when I _am_. _Right_. _Here_. I will never be good enough, I will never compare to you or matter enough to you for you to choose me over some pretty face that you hardly know. I've done so much for you, I've been with you through _everything_, and we have a lifetime full of memories together," I said, letting out half a laugh and a cry at the same time, pressing my lips together to keep a sob at bay, "and you're willing to forget about it, and all for a girl that's threatened to wreck my face and ruin my life.

I took a deep, shaky breath. "Don't ever talk to me again. Don't ever look at me again. Don't ever rely on me again—because I am done. Have fun with Emily. You two deserve each other."

Then I turned towards the direction of the school's exit, ignoring my name being called after me. If there were any other people around, I didn't care enough to notice. I didn't care. Period.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I know that was just about as <strong>**cliché as it gets, but, hey, I tried. I'll probably go back and edit the fight scene to give it a little more depth, but I wanted to get this chapter out as fast as possible and not make you guys have to wait any longer. Clary finally grew a backbone, at least, like what a lot of you asked for(: I thought it'd be more realistic to have Clary snap sooner rather than later because, let's face it, even the strongest person alive couldn't deal with an Emily in his or her life.**

**Sorry if it sucked...I really tried. Review your thoughts, comments, questions, suggestions; anything. I'd love to hear from you guys!**

**Until next time, peace(:**

* * *

><p><strong>Will be edited soon.<strong>


	6. Missing

**Here is the full chapter of Missing! Excluding the last chapter as an actual chapter, I'm hoping to make this short story last four more chapters. That being said, the finishing product, after I delete the teaser chapter, will be ten chapters(: Now that Jace has his feelings all sorted out, and he's finally unblinded by Emily, there will be a lot of focus on Clace—but don't think Clary will forgive Jace ****_that _****easily(; And there's still a lot of feelings that need to be revealed ****_and _****there's still a certain Sebastian Verlac that needs to be worried about.**

**So, with that being said, here's the next chapter...**

**(If you've already read the preview of this chapter, and you really don't want to have to reread it, then skip everything until the 'announcement' that tells you you're past the preview)**

* * *

><p><strong>~Jace~<strong>

It's not as simple as saying it felt like I was missing something, a _part_ of me. It'd never be that simple—at least not when it came to Clary. The girl with the crazy, red hair, bright eyes, infectious smile, and nothing but kind words, thoughts, and ambiance to offer; she'd always been a giver, a _for_giver, a person, a _rare_, beautiful person, that never judged anyone else on his makeup now, rather the potential he'd have later on in life. She was observant, almost _too _observant, and only she could paint a butterfly out of a hornet. Her uncanny, effortless ability to have trust in the worst of people was both admirable and innocent, as well as dangerous and distressing. She'd never know when to run away, she'd never know when to scream, she'd never understand the evil that surrounds her. It was everywhere and Clary, whether she shields herself away from it, simply ignores it, or has convinced herself that she can stop it, will forever be endangered by it. _  
><em>

When it's storming, she only sees the nature growing around her, the light from the lightning, the opportunity to wear her rain-boots. Snow, in her mind, doesn't cause accidents or pass around colds, it's as simple as white crystals falling from the sky that she can mold into snowmen and use as an excuse to drink more hot chocolate, sit by the fire and draw 'till her hand aches. She took the exhaustive 'finding light in the darkness' to a whole different level; she was too good for this world, and yet, without her in it, there wouldn't be, well, there wouldn't be...a Clary. A difference. A new way at looking at things. Conformity would rule, no one would dare to stand against it; there'd be a division among a friend that plays football and another that's a shoe-in for becoming valedictorian.

My friend, my _best _friend—since before even our diaper days—never ceases to amaze me. She'd been there for me when my parents had gotten a divorce, had invited me in addition to all of the girls in our first grade class to her birthday party, has never once pushed me away or deprived me of her comfort; she's been my _every_thing. Someone so categorically perfect, infinitely sweet, and persistently present doesn't deserve to lose her mom when she's not even ten years old, or to receive merely a pack of colored pencils from her father for her sixteenth birthday, or to have to put in double, _triple _the amount effort of everyone else because she has to rely on a scholarship to get in to a descent school. Someone like Clary, who makes you smile and laugh, even cry because she's this splatter of color in a black and white world, doesn't deserve anything but the absolute best—hell, the girl deserves a kingdom.

She deserves to smile because she _wants _to, not because she has to to make so-and-so feel better.

She deserves a partner, one that's almost as brilliant as herself, to comfort, to love, to protect her as she does me.

She deserves new shoes—no, about a _hundred _pairs of new shoes.

She deserves...she deserves so much more than what I have to offer her.

Her glasses, now hidden inside her tiny, curled fist, were broken. Destroyed. Irreparable. And I knew—I _knew_—that it'd take her months to get them replaced. That thought alone made me want to buy her a damn pony, and maybe even half a continent. Something as simple as breaking your glasses, something that most people would be able to take care of easily, was made insurmountably impossible for a girl that was already struggling enough; she didn't _deserve _her glasses, her old ones, she deserved _gold_-fucking-rimmed glasses.

And her eyes, pooling with tears—enough to make me want to stab the nearest guy in the throat—were piercing, accusing, _so hurt_ and angry and upset and uncharacteristically Clary—and all because of me. _Me_. It wasn't Sebastian that did this to her, it wasn't some petty guy that had nothing better to do than to make other peoples' lives miserable, it wasn't a self-absorbed bitch that was jealous. It. Was. Me. _I _did this to her. I knew her better than anyone else, I grew up with her, I was loved and trusted unconditionally by her, and it should've be so easy to choose her; her twinkling laughter, witty sense of humor, instinct to praise and cherish rather than turn her head the other way—those little, individual things alone about her _should have been enough_.

Why couldn't have I just said "I choose you"?

There was something wrong with me, something _seriously _wrong with me because while she was crying, reaching, begging for me to believe her, I just stood there. I just watched as tears slid down her flushed cheeks, listened, it seemed, to everything she was telling me from behind a closed door; I was stone cold, closed off, completely apathetic. Ironically enough, as I showed her no love, I _thought_ about how much I loved her, I thought about all of the things that made me love her; how she never used to play with Barbies like the other girls, how she claims she loves scary movies but whenever we'd watch one together she'd hide her face behind a pillow, how she found the simplest of things amazing. How she shrugged off a compliment so easily. How she was completely oblivious to everything everyone else saw in her. I still had all of the drawings she'd made for me stashed in the top drawer of my dresser; I still had thousands upon thousands of pictures of the two of us growing up; I still had my history journal from back in the sixth grade because it'd been the only class we'd had together that year and we'd filled the pages from top to bottom with secret notes.

I still remember our first day of elementary school. I remember being her potty-buddy on our class field trip to the zoo in the third grade. I remember hearing my mom's voice at two in the morning, finishing a call with Clary's father with a sob. I remember hearing her footsteps getting louder. I remember seeing the shadows her feet cast through the light between the bottom of the door and the ground. I remember her turning on my lights, taking me into her arms, rocking me back and forth and just crying—_Honey...Clary's mom...Her mommy was in an accident. She, she d-didn't make it..._—and I remember driving to Clary's house that very morning and sleeping with her in her bed, her little hands clinging to the front of my shirt like a lifeline, my arms wrapped suffocatingly tight around her trembling frame.

I remember when she got the hiccups for two days straight. I remember laughing with her until I was hysterical, tears streaming down my face, my throat aching, my back tightening up painfully. I remember all of the staring contests we'd competed in. I remember playing _UNO_ in the car with her on our way to to visit my grandparent's lake house for the entire summer. Her smile was committed to memory, her eyes would forever exist inside my mind, her voice was practically the first thing I heard every morning when I woke up. _Jace. Come on, come on, come on._

The faster you get up, the faster you can see me. Her. Clary.

She—how could I even compare her to someone else? To Emily?—was being betrayed by my resilience to answer her, by my lack of knowing what to say, by my hesitation. I couldn't get the right words out; I couldn't focus, think, _breathe _with Clary, _my _Clary pouring her heart out to me. It was as if she'd finally discovered what a scumbag I was, how she spoke to me, it was as if she'd found the last puzzle piece to finish one of those hundred-piece sets that take months to complete. She was done, and she was done without me. She was leaving me behind, and, as I thought about all the times I'd thought I needed to protect her, I myself realized that it wasn't because she ever needed me, rather it had always been me that needed her. I've always guarded her so vehemently because I couldn't ever imagine what would happen if she was hurt or upset or broken; and now that she wouldn't let me guard her, she _was _hurt and upset _and _broken.

Who would've thought her shield would end up being the reason why...

_You chose her. You know me. You know me. You know me._

_You're just going to throw all of that away._

And then she was walking away. Maia and Jordan called after her, but not before Jordan called me an 'asshole' and Maia gave me the most menacing look I'd ever seen, and then they even went as far as to shove past me, pushing me back a couple steps, and breached through the crowd that had formed around us. And disappeared like her. Like Clary. Maia and Jordan didn't understand me. Clary didn't understand me—_no one _understood me because I couldn't answer possibly the most simple, life or death question out there; Who do you choose? The girl you've known your whole life, the girl you love more than anything in the world, the girl you can't live without _or _the girl I met not even a week ago that doesn't _know _me, that will _never_ know me? _Don't ever talk to me again. Don't ever look at me again. Don't ever rely on me again—because I am done. Have fun with Emily. You two deserve each other. _No. No. No. No. No. I needed to move, to run after her, to tell her that I choose her, that I'd always choose her, but I was still frozen, still silent, still horrified. _She couldn't have meant it. She didn't mean it, Jace. Clary's your best friend. She didn't mean it._

And because I knew that I was wrong, I was extravasated. I was so close to losing it. "Clary!" I suddenly shouted, strangling my voice and forcing it to say something. "Clary!"

I took a step towards her, only to be stopped by a hand on my chest. "Jace."

Inattentive and blind to anything, anyone that wasn't Clary, I grabbed the hand's small wrist and threw it off of me, pulling at my hair like an idiot; there were too many complications, too many people, too many voices, and the one person that I wanted around wasn't with me. And even if she was, it wouldn't really matter because I basically destroyed a lifelong friendship, because she _told _me that she never wanted to speak to me again. Look at me again. Have me rely on her again. _I choose you__—_it was that simple. Three syllables, infinite meaning; lost from my vocabulary and glued to the back of my throat. Why couldn't I just say it?

"Jace..." It was that _voice _again. It wasn't Clary's.

Clary. Clary. Clary. Clary.

"Jace—come on, you don't need her."

But I _do _need her. I need her more than anything.

"Let's go back to my place and I'll make you feel better."

But I didn't want to go back to her place. To Emily's place.

I didn't want anything to do with Emily because it was her fault, her entire fault that Clary hated me. She should've never moved here or invited me over for dinner or kissed me—_I _should've never let her. It wasn't her fault, it was mine. It was all mine.

"Come on, Jace. I'll take you to the movies; my treat."

I whirled around. "_Shut up_! I don't want to do anything with you, Emily. Shut up—just shut up. Leave me alone."

Her blue eyes widened marginally—so much smaller than Clary's, coated with too much makeup, not the right color. "Exc_use me_?" she said, her voice razor sharp and dangerous—too high pitched to be Clary's, so much more forceful and demeaning, not even a little cloying. Her hair was wrong, too. Too short, too prim and assembled, to brown, not even a little red. No curls. No nothing. Her nose was wrong. She didn't even smile, and when she did it was more bewitching and trying too hard to be enticing than genuine and inviting. She didn't have freckles, she was too tall, she _wasn't Clary_.

"Did you break her glasses on purpose, Emily?" I said, ignoring her anger and trying to push down all of mine. It wasn't working; steam was practically rising out of my skin. "Did you approach her in the library and _threaten _her? Have you been lying to me this whole time?"

Her lips stitched together and her eyebrows shot up. "W-what?" she said, laughing breathlessly. "_No_, of course not—"

She was lying. Of course she was lying.

She hesitated, she was put on the spot—caught off guard and left to rely solely on her words rather than her charm and ease to let lie after lie escape past her lips. She probably expected me to fall right back in line with her, to continue being her silly putty, to _reward _her for her menacing and cruel behavior; as if I wasn't even my own person, as if she controlled me. I was seeing her in an entirely new light, one that wasn't so pretty and enthralling, but dark and unveiling.

"I can't believe you—"

She reached for me, cooing my name, and I jerked away from her, my temper _this close _to boiling over. "Don't _touch _me. I can't believe you—I can't believe I ever went out with you. You're dirty and sneaky and unbelievably insensitive; how could you do that? How can you be like that? Clary is my best friend, Emily. She means more to me than," I broke off, letting out a pent up sigh. "I don't know _what_, but she comes first. She will always come first; she's nothing but nice, and before you she would've talked to me about anything. But you had to have—you must have said something or done something to her to keep her quiet. Am I right?" I laughed disbelievingly. "Did you actually think you could remove her from my life without me caring?"

Emily arched a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well," she said, twisting her smile into that of an unrecognizable, entirely different Emily. "It worked this far."

I scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She smirked. "Are you really that oblivious, Jace? And to think I was so interested in you...When you 'introduced' me to Clary for 'the first time', you _let _me insult her. You just stood there. You yourself chose me over her; you hung out with me after you already promised your little Clary the same. If you _really _didn't notice any of that, then I seriously need to get my judgement restored."

She took a step towards me. "You're so in love with me that you got distracted from her, from Clary."

"_In love _with you?" I sputtered. "_What_? I don't—I hardly even _know _you. You're completely deluded. You're crazy."

Put off guard, Emily noticeably frowned, but the response came and went so fast that I nearly missed it. She was obviously emotionally deprived or something to be able to recover so quickly, to hardly even give a damn. How had I ever thought she was hot? "If you don't love me," she drawled, her voice sickly sweet, "then... why did you choose me?"

"I didn't," I said, almost defensively, not missing a beat.

"Oh, but you did."

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><p><strong>You have just finished the preview of this chapter! Everything beyond this point is new material(:<strong>

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><p>I stared her down, wanting to be disgusted with her, with <em>that <em>face; blue eyes alight with power, individual with simper, together with flashing dominance, lips the color of rose petals, twisting up at the right corner, unmasked satisfaction and alarming self-sufficiency laid bare. I could _see _her now. I could really see her. She wasn't perfect, she wasn't the girl of my dreams, she wasn't deserving enough to pocket the ever-present looks of longing she collected wherever she went, whether they be at school, the mall, or a drugstore. It was so wrong that she could get away with her cynical ways without even batting an eyelash, eluding the right minds of her true self. She put on a show for those she knew would be vulnerable to it, while simultaneously taking apart all things good.

I wanted to hate her, to never give her another thought, to uproot her very being, but, at the same time, I knew that I had no one to blame but myself. I'd let myself become her victim, I'd let her distract me, use me, manipulate me, and stamp her power over me right, dead-center on my forehead for the world to see. For Clary to see. She'd accomplished what she'd aimed to do and it's because of ignorant, audacious, stupid guys like me that enable her to do so. Did I not have any self-preservation or respect at all? Did I _really _let Emily wreck what very well could've been my future? All it took was less than a week for her to target, pounce, and put me to death.

Man was she a grade A bitch.

"You see," she said, giggling miserly. "You can't even say anything to deny it."

I opened and closed my mouth, trying to think of _some_thing to get her to just shut up, to wipe the smile from her face. To hurt her. But no words came to me. I couldn't think of anything to say in her now considerably daunting presence; she'd won and I was trying not to accept that. "You're wrong," I bit out, taking a step towards her to show that I wasn't playing around, that she no longer had any sovereignty over me. I might not have _known _what to say, but it was no longer me who was speaking. "Forgive me if I didn't want to choose between you and my best friend. I'll admit it was senseless of me to actually think you and her could've gotten along, but that was before I found out you've been a sneaky, oppressing—_bitch_."

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes looked murderous. "_What _did you just call me?"

I stood up a little straighter, smirking with conviction and widening my own eyes just to piss her off. "A sneaky, oppressing _bitch_," I enunciated slowly, talking down to her as if she were a confused first grader.

She released a beyond irritated, ragged exhalation, shaking her head madly. "_No one calls me_—"_  
><em>

"A bitch?" I finished cheerily. "Well, I, uh, _just did_."

She sneered at me—very attractive—and crossed her bone-thin arms over her chest. "Then what does that make you? If I'm such a bitch, then _why _did you fall so madly in love with me?"

I looked up, exasperated, and raised my hands as if I were about to keep a three-hundred pound football player from barreling into me. "_Em_ily," I breathed out, laughing harshly in disbelief. "Get over yourself—I've known you, what, a total of four days? We've never even been on a real date. I am not in love with you. Even if this whole escapade never happened today, I would've found out about your annoying, vindictive ways eventually. You're in love with _your_self and you're right—I was clearly being an idiot. I'm only human, but you...you're a sociopath or something. You're delusional. You need help."

I could see through her expressionless façade, the hasty blank stare she sent towards me. She was angry, furious, livid. Call me a hypocrite, but I felt an undeniable sense of satisfaction ascend my spine. I was on the verge of sticking my tongue out at her and yelling 'Ha Ha!'—but of course I didn't because, well, that would've been immeasurably immature. Screw maturity...

"Are you done?" she snapped. I absolutely hated her composure, how she still made her voice sound as demeaning as ever, as if she hadn't just been thrown the insult of a lifetime in her face. Why couldn't she just _be _upset. Why?

"No," I drawled out. "I'm not. Just to clear up any confusion here: I choose Clary. I will always choose Clary."

She arched a brow. "I think I got that, and kudos to you. You _finally _'broke free of my evil spell'," she practically snarled, mocking hurt and distress. "But you're still just as stupid and oblivious as ever."

I scrunched together my features.

She barked out a laugh. "Yes, you choose your little friend Clary, but not for the same reason she's put up with your crap for this long."

"What the hell would you know—?"

"Oh, I _know_," she droned, tightening her lips together in a sour smile. "I know a lot more than you, and you've known her your entire life. She's helplessly in love with you; she's _so _in love with you that she was willing to never speak a word to you about how I acted towards her because she knew it'd jeopardize your happiness. From what I hear you've dated practically every girl in this school _except _Clary. She may not have told anyone, but _every_one knows how she feels towards you." Emily made a parody of smile. "Everyone feels _so _bad for her. She's pathetic, really. It was almost too easy to intimidate her, which made it all the more enjoyable—"

"_Stop_," I demanded. "She's _not _pathetic. She's not. Don't you ever—"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Is that really _all _you got out of that? Enough with the threats, Jace."

I shook my head once, so _angry _that I could hardly control myself. "Clary is not in love with me, Emily," I told her. "You said so yourself, I've known her my entire life. I'm her best friend. I know everything there is to know about her. I think I would know if she had feelings towards me that were anything other than friendly."

"_So _oblivious."

I wanted to wring her neck. "I am _not _fucking oblivious." Arguing with her was pointless and I knew that I was just feeding her exactly what she craved, but I couldn't _not _fight back. I wanted her to admit that I was right and she was wrong. I wanted to leave her without words. "You _think _you know everything there is to know about everyone, and that makes _you _oblivious. You can't just read people like a book, and that's what you try to do. You think you know who you can toy around with and who's what, but you're deluded and such an arrogant bitch that it's almost laughable. I know who _you _are now, Emily, and once everyone else figures it out for themselves, your little games aren't going to work and you're going to be left with nothing."

She scoffed. "You know, I actually feel sorry for her now."

She was coiling my nerves so tightly that I knew it was just a matter of time before they broke free and I'd snap; I'd make my wants to hurt her not just mentally but physically a scary reality. Why couldn't Emily just be a guy? It'd make thing things so much easier if she were. "Did you not just hear what I said to you?" I practically shouted.

"I'm asking you the same exact question," she deadpanned, leaving me the one without words. "You let everything I said about Clary having feelings for you fly right over your head; you're not just oblivious, Jace, you're in denial. You let me in so easily, you let other girls in, too, so why is it that you're so bent against letting Clary in?" With that, and a final glance in my direction, she slithered past me, bumping her shoulder against mine, and leaving me with nothing but the loud echo of her heels and words. I couldn't even bring myself to turn around and try to stop her, because that's what I wanted to do. I wanted to keep yelling at her until I had fully won, but...I just let her walk away.

I stood alone in an empty hallway, my mind only registering one word. One name. _Clary_.

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><p><strong>~Clary~<strong>

Jace had tried calling me all right. He'd even gone as far as to calling me twenty times in one night, each unreciprocated call after call followed by a voicemail that I couldn't bring myself to listen to. I knew he'd tried visiting me, too, each day after school, but my dad, unaware of me sitting on top of the stairs whenever I heard the doorbell ring, never told me this himself. I think he was trying to protect me.

He'd let me stay home for a total of two weeks, telling the school we were on vacation in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, when in reality he knew sending me to school without me being able to see anything was cruel. But now that my new contacts were sitting in front of me on my dresser, waiting to be put in, he didn't have any other excuse to keep me home. He'd opted to let me continue schooling via internet, playing off his uncharacteristic concern and unwillingness to let his 'little girl' go back to the place that had returned her to him in hysterical tears, clutching her broken glasses to her chest. He may be stoic, my father, but when something or someone hurts me, he doesn't hesitate to go to the extremes.

_Contacts_. I now had contacts. Glasses were definitely the more financially secure option, and I'd made no protest or argument against replacing my old pair, but my dad—at the eye doctor's with an audience and all—had tucked a loopy strand of my hair behind my ear, smiled, and told me that "it was time for the world to see my pretty face". He'd insisted that not only should I get contacts instead, but that I order a backup pair of glasses as well, just in case. "Don't worry about money, Clare," he'd continued. "You've gotten more use out of those glasses than I should've allowed. Let me do this for you."

So, I sat in front of my dresser for over an hour, trying and failing to put a little, circular piece of rubber in my eye, until finally—_finally__—_I succeeded. Despite my left eye taking on a slightly reddish hue from my fingers' previous assaults, looking in the mirror, I saw a whole new Clary. One whose eyes were bright, no longer shielded behind thick frames of glass. Her heart-shaped face was narrow and angular, a small, pale smudge between her curtain of red hair on either side. She was pretty, I suppose, but much too young looking and delicate and fragile. She yearned to be tall, willowy, strong, and confident, to be a girl like Emily, minus the ever-present, festering bitch-itude, but she'd already accepted she was anything but, so it wasn't really that much of a headache anymore. The point was, the glasses were gone and I was still standing.

Like clockwork, the doorbell suddenly rang. Thinking, _knowing _it was going to be Jace, I quietly exited my room, reveling in the twenty-twenty vision I had been without for two weeks, and found my little spot on top of the stairs. I held my breath as my father appeared from out of the kitchen, mumbling something incoherent under his breath, stalking past me without even a glance my way, and then disappeared from my sight once again as he opened the front door.

"Jace—" he began, but then he abruptly cut himself off. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought it wa—"

"Hello Mr. Fairchild," the voice of a _girl_, not a boy, not Jace, said. In fact, it was the voice of Maia. "You've met me a couple times, but it's been a while. I'm Maia and this," she continued, "is Isabelle. We're friends of Clary."

"Hello," the girl—Isabelle—said in a friendly manner. Confusion overrided my features and clenched at my gut; I was almost, _almost _disappointed that it wasn't Jace. If it had been him, I still wouldn't have been willing to talk to him, no way, but he had yet to make his daily round to my house and it was getting late. Had he given up? Was he tired of getting the door shut in his face? Did I really mean that little to him? But at the same time, Maia and Isabelle, the latter being my friend and my other friend Simon's girlfriend, were here to see me. I still had other people in my life besides him, besides Jace, and that was an overwhelming net of assurance.

"No, no, I remember you Maia," my father said. I could picture him smiling. "Hi, Isabelle. It's nice to meet you."

"You too," Isabelle said.

There was a brief pause. "You girls are here to see Clary?"

"Yeah—we haven't seen her at school and when we asked a few of her teachers, they told us she was on vacation. We didn't know if she was back or anything, but we thought we'd try," Maia explained. "_Is_...uh, she here?"

"Yes—I'll go tell her you're both here. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you guys."

My eyes widened and I silently jumped from the sitting position I was in, and raced back to my room, shutting my door just in time to hear the slight thud of my father's feet against the stairs. I leaped on my bed and picked up a random book off of my nightstand. By the time there were three knocks on my door, I was out of breath and trying to focus on the last paragraph of the one-hundred-sixtieth page of _The Awakening _by Kate Chopin.

"Come in," I called levelly, evening out my breathing.

The door opened and my father's blue eyes met my green ones. He smiled at me, opening his mouth and closing it, as if he were debating on what to say. I was so flustered and frazzled that I almost forgot that this was the first time anyone would see me without my glasses on. "Would you look at that... I see her, your mother in you."

I sat up with flushed cheeks and grinned softly, suddenly feeling self-conscience. My face felt so open and vulnerable, and I had nothing to hide behind anymore. So I looked down at the book in my hands, unable to keep eye contact for too long.

"Some of your friends are here," he told me. "Maia and a girl named Isabelle. Do...do you want to see them?"

I allowed myself to look at him again and I nodded. "Yeah, bring them up."

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><p><strong>Next chapter, like so many of you reviewed, Clary will be getting her makeover <em>and <em>she will be seeing Jace for the first time since the 'incident'. (: I hope you guys enjoyed the full chapter of Missing and I'll be working on a new chapter for you guys in the meantime. **

**Please review your thoughts and comments and suggestions, critique, predictions...I'd love to hear from all of you(:**

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><p><strong>Will be edited soon.<strong>


	7. One-Eighty

**~Clary~**

"You're so much better off without him!" Isabelle said for the umpteenth time that night, her eyes never deviating from the brush that she threaded through my hair, aiming to achieve the "perfection" that she had promised me while simultaneously trying not show any frustration. I think she was finally digesting the fact that she couldn't work her magic on everyone, especially not on those cursed with frizzy, matted, endless curls. Her cheeks were flushed, beads of sweat collected along her hairline, and she was breathing as though she'd just completed a 10k throughout her redundant, make-Clary-feel-better speech. It was the most flustered I'd ever seen her be. "I mean, no one _needs _boys in their lives. Yeah, I'm dating Simon and all, but even he gets on my last nerve sometimes, you know? The problem is simply that they're _boys_. We need men—"

"Isabelle," Maia droned, "you're making the poor girl have sex-hair."

My cheeks flooded with color and Isabelle threw the brush to the countertop, making a sound that sounded freakishly similar to that of a cat. "Let's see _you _do any better."

Maia rolled her eyes, clacking her nails nonchalantly against the edge of the tub. "Clary looks just fine with her natural hair. It's obvious that whatever you're trying to do isn't going to work, unless you're willing to spend the rest of the night on it, and then want to have to come over every morning just to repeat the same process over and over again."

Isabelle huffed. "So, great, I just wasted about an hour of my life that I'll never get back—"

"_So _dramatic."

"Oh shut up!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist, girl."

"I'm _not_, _you _are!"

"_Really_? Is that so? Who's the one—"

I stood up, taking a step away from Isabelle so that I could establish a more even ground between the two girls, and held up my hands as if I were in the midst of directing traffic. "_Woah_, let's just...calm down a little." I was met with two sets of wide eyes, and so I rolled my own, almost disbelieving that I was spending my night getting pampered and, apparently, making headway to having "sex-hair", while listening to two of my remaining friends left bantering back and forth with each other as if they were third graders. Isabelle and Maia, though I wasn't necessarily the best of friends with either of them, always gave me the impression that they were the closest of close—but how can that possibly _be_ when they argue about the level of hotness the new security guard is? What's even the difference between a nine and a nine-point-zero-zero-two-five?

Almost unanimously, they crossed their arms over their chests and huffed loudly, only to send the other a glare and stare stubbornly down at their feet. "Really," I said after a moment's beat, looking between them. "I appreciate that I have people like you guys in my life that even bother to come check on me, and it's amazing that you guys want to give me a 'make-over' and all that, but...I don't exactly _want _to change my appearance just because of the—you know... the, erm, situation. I don't want to 'aspire' to look as made-up as Emily; that's just not me."

Maia was the first to jump. She rose from her seat on the edge of the tub and reached out her hand to grab mine, giving it a little, comforting squeeze. "We don't want to change you, Clary. Never. What's there to possibly change? It's just...sometimes it feels good to get a little dolled-up. It's more of a self-pride kind of thing."

I saw Isabelle in the mirror's reflection nod, and then I turned to fully face her. "Exactly. Even though us girls _say _they don't care what we look like, it's still nice to feel pretty every once and a while. To feel different and other-worldly—"

Maia snorted. "'_Other-worldly_'? Really, Iz?"

Despite the little bad of protest I could see practically welling up within her, Isabelle, with flushed cheeks and all, joined in on our laughter. "I was _trying_ to be poetic, thank you very much," she giggled, growing a little red with embarrassment. "Okay, sometimes I just kind of don't think and I say things."

"_Sometimes_," Maia inquired.

"That doesn't stop _you _from hanging around me, now does it?"

"And yet you're—"

I knew where this was going; I'd become adept to their habitual-bickering routine after about the first couple times their seemingly harmless conversations resulted in me suddenly caught in the middle of a crossfire. I rose my voice, above Maia's sure-to-add-heat-to-the-fire comeback, and, without even realizing it, went to my tippy-toes. "I'm going to ask my dad to order some pizza. Does that sound good? Good." _Okay then._

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><p>Isabelle had, in the end, managed to out-do herself; I was left with waterfall-smooth straitened hair, a baby-bottom-soft complexion thanks to this homemade mask she'd found on Pinterest, and her extra Naked pallet that she just so happened to keep on her twenty-four-seven. Apparently it was her gift to me for sitting through endless hours of her acting out on her need for perfection. It wasn't like I'd turned into a makeup guru myself overnight, but the gesture was still appreciated and the next morning I found myself coating my eyelids with one of the more neutral colors. For added "effect", I even coated my eyes in some fancy-smchancy mascara (that was also something Isabelle had "gifted" to me).<p>

My reflection was one to gawk at—not because I was hot or anything, but because I hadn't seen myself with straight hair since fourth grade picture-dayandI was wearing more makeup than I'd worn for homecoming last year, _and_, not to mention, I now had contacts. It was _crazy _different. I was still recognizable, of course, but at the same time I could easily be mistaken for someone else. Think of it this way: you're seeing yourself without braces for the first time in years. You're still you, rather a _different _you.

It's like a part of me, a _big _part of me, was missing but... _replaced _by something else. Curly hair: gone. Glasses: gone. Clary: still processing.

I didn't want to give the impression that I was dressing up and making this complete one-eighty change all because of Jace and Emily and the whole spiel that went down between them which the entire school undoubtedly knew more about than I did, so I opted for jeans, my Chucks, and a rather plain top. I felt more comfortable that way, anyways; if I was going to be seen differently, I wanted to at least have some part of me, err, with me. Still, the nerves I had wouldn't go away. I tried to give my dad the acceptable indifferent façade, but my insides were a symphony of Pop Rocks, even after going through the whole 'things can only get better from here' lecture inside my head a few more times. _It'll be just fine. You probably won't even _see _Emily or Jace__—but that doesn't account for the rest of the school._

And then, the five-minute-turned-hour drive to school was coming to an end. The drop-off line helped a bit to slow the time down, but not enough to put a lid over the inevitability jar. All too soon I was kissing my dad on the cheek, saying my usual 'I love you' and 'have a good day', and then opening the car door, putting my left foot on the curb, then my right foot, shutting the car door, waving over my shoulder as a last 'goodbye', and staring face-to-face with the school that my used-to-be-best friend-slash-boy-I-was-hoplessly-in-love-with and the She-beast both went. I puffed my cheeks out before heaving the strap of my bag a little higher on my shoulder, made sure I still remembered how to blink, and found myself approaching the double-doors, taking it step by step. Slowly but surely.

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><p>I survived, needless to say. Oh yes, eyes had followed me everywhere I went, along with whispers and never-ending rumors, but it'd only taken me approximately three minutes to hear that Jace was skipping school. Again. Apparently, he'd been absent almost as much as I had for the past couple weeks. A part of me felt this undeniable feeling similar to that of guilt (that probably <em>was <em>guilt) pooling in my stomach, but the other part was quick to snap some sense back into me: _he _hurt _you_, not the other way around.

Aside from the constant reminder of my golden best friend hanging over my shoulders like a too-tight winter coat, I'd thankfully only seen Emily once. She'd met my eyes with her icy blue ones, but, surprisingly enough, had looked away without so much as a once-over a sour twist of her lips. Of course that hadn't stopped my heart from engaging my chest into kick-boxing match, _but_ I was still standing. Homework was going to be a bitch, as expected when you miss half a month of school, and there was always the worry for tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, but I'd made it my first day back and I was on my way to my locker five minutes before the final bell.

I wasn't able to get too far, however, because suddenly a hand was firmly clasped over my mouth and another was yanking my arm towards the body of another. My back was then met with the cold brick of a locker room wall, and, after my body had gotten over the initial fear still present just beneath the surface, it took me all but a second to process the offender looming over me.

_Sebastian._

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><p><strong>Not a very long chapter, I know, but some readers are going mad and cussing me out and accusing me of being lazy and all that fun stuff, <em>so <em>I decided to put at least something up. I wrote this all tonight and I hope the quality isn't too horrible, but I'm still looking forward to seeing what you guys think(:**

**To those of you that are understanding of my unnecessarily long absences, I can't thank you enough. You guys are too awesome and it's not fair that I leave you all hanging for so long. I'm really going to try to be better. And, to those of you that are calling me a 'bitch' and 'fucking lazy' and _more_, _calm down_. I'm trying here. I really don't feel all that confident yet with my writing and I'm one of those people that has to pick and prod at everything until I'm at least a little satisfied; I don't want to post chapters that are horrible. **

**I haven't updated Unwritten in a while, yes, but it hasn't been three months! I'm sorry that I can't post every day, like one of you suggested, really, I am, but if you want me to update more, don't be so...err, rude? **

**Until next time, peace.**


	8. Chance Encounters

_**~Clary~**_

_I wasn't able to get too far, however, because suddenly a hand was firmly clasped over my mouth and another was yanking my arm towards the body of another. My back was then met with the cold brick of a locker room wall, and, after my body had gotten over the initial fear still present just beneath the surface, it took me all but a second to process the offender looming over me._

Sebastian.

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><p>"Well," he smirked, his dark and calculating eyes grazing over my body and lingering over my lips momentarily before they brought themselves to meet mine. "I can't say that I don't appreciate <em>this<em>," he said, using one of the hands on either side of my head, caging me in between him and the wall, to twirl a strand of my straightened hair between his fingers. "It's a nice look for you...And, after, what was it? _Two weeks_, it's a nice surprise—even though I know it's not for me." He smiled knowingly, in an near mocking-way, his warm breath fanning over the side of my face as a laugh escaped him.

I huffed and straightened up, shoving against him harshly—when my back was slammed against the wall once again, leaving me out of breath and staring up at Sebastian incredulously. "What do you think you're doing?" I demanded. _Did he really just do that? _"I knew you were a creep, but I didn't think you'd go as far as to pounce on your victims unsuspectingly. In the boy's locker room no less."

Sebastian's noticeable overdose on cologne, no matter how overbearing it was, did nothing to mask the horrible smell around us. It was almost sickening how _awful _it was—like the end result of Jace's worn football gear soaking in sweat after having been concealed inside a bag for the entire weekend. _And I thought the girl's locker room was bad_. _  
><em>

He scoffed. "My 'victims'. Is that what you call them?"

I stared at him hotly, eyes narrowing accusingly. "It's not exactly a secret that you've been with more girls than hardly believable. And not all of them were as interested in you as you were them—"

Sebastian's once-gentle hold on my hair turned into a full-on handful matting and pulling painfully on my roots. He used his leverage over me to pull my face closer to his, to press his lips nearly over my own. My breath caught in my throat. "What exactly are you implying?" He somewhat pulled away, enough to fix me with an intent and threatening look, one that set me more on edge than when he'd first pulled me into the locker room. "I'd be careful if I were you...You're not in the most _secure _of situations." A warning. A definite warning.

I tried to maintain eye-contact, and to keep my voice steady, but my instincts were gnawing at my insides like crazy. _Get out of here. Get away from him. Now. _It's never really occurred to me until now that Sebastian could really hurt me; he was bigger—_so _much bigger than me, and stronger, and faster, and undoubtedly more desensitized. The guy didn't even care that he was holding me against my will, or that he was nearly ripping the hair from my scalp. He didn't care that I'd told him 'no' before, or that I wasn't at all interested. This whole time, while I've been worried about possibly encountering Jace or Emily, I hadn't even given a thought about Sebastian. The guy was unpredictable. There was no telling what he could do—and I was alone with him. With no one around to intervene.

"You need to let me go," I said levelly. "I-I have friends—they're waiting for me at my locker. If I'm not there soon, they'll start looking for me."

This didn't faze him, if anything it seemed to give him a bad of confidence. "What is it, exactly, that you think I'm going to do to you?" he chuckled.

"It's obvious that I don't want to be here with you," I said hastily. "I've been avoiding you if you couldn't tell. But that obviously doesn't matter—not to you, at least." I found his unwavering and daring gaze to be a challenge in itself to match, and yet I couldn't bring myself to just shut up; I wasn't doing myself any good by provoking him further.

"And..." he drawled, not necessarily inquiringly. "This scares you about me."

I didn't answer to that. I didn't have to.

He laughed, slowly loosening the hold he had in my hair to bring the pad of his thumb to my bottom lip and maneuver it down to my chin. I tried to stay perfectly still, hyperaware of his every movement. "Can you blame me, though?" he breathed, bringing his eyes down to where his thumb lingered and gradually applying pressure until I noticeably flinched. Only then did he move his attention elsewhere, sliding not only his thumb, but the entirety of its connected hand down to my throat to curl around it. My heartbeat was deafening. "It's not every day that you find a girl such as yourself. So many others, unfortunately for you, are too...What's the word? _Easy _to get. Sure, they're all prettier than you. It's noted. And they're sure as hell more confident," he laughed breathily, meeting my eyes once again. "—Sometimes that whole shy-thing you've got going on gets a little...irritating."

After a drawn out sigh that might as well have said _oh well_, he continued on easily. "And those 'other girls', they're definitely more _experienced_. They're not helplessly pinning after the same guy—" I looked down, ashamed at this "—and they _know _there's more fish in the sea. They _know _they can get them, too. But...sometimes _not _knowing is more interesting. At least to me, when my whole life I've been around girls that know too much. You're a cute girl, Clary, and...I appreciate that, but you need to move on—"

My eyes flashed, disbelieving. "To _you_? That will never happen—"

His hand contracted around my throat, silencing me at once. He clenched his jaw and squeezed a little harder before releasing the pressure altogether. "Here you are," he scoffed, "telling me to beat it, practically, when you're telling the guy that chose a slut he'd known for not even for a week over you, that you'll drop anything to run to his arms when they're finally open."

I shook my head in denial. "No. I'm done with Jace. I cut off all ties to him. You don't know what you're talking about."

"But don't I? You say this now, but it's only been two weeks. Who's to say that you won't change your mind the second you see him again."

"I won't," I gritted out.

"Did you know," Sebastian persisted, "that your golden boy is still with her?"

My eyes widened. Of course, somewhere deep down, I had accepted that Jace was with Emily. He'd chosen her over me, after all. But, after weeks of not seeing him, but hearing him pleading to my father to let him see me, of him constantly calling and emailing and texting, and never giving up, I'd held onto this false sense of hope that he'd changed his mind. It was stupid, now that everything was put into perspective. I'd told him that I never wanted to speak to him again, so why on earth would he give up Emily if he already lost me? The mere thought of him still being with her, though, after everything that had happened, was a slap in the face. He still chose her. And he still wanted me in his life sitting on the sidelines.

Sebastian smiled at the noticeable effect his words had over me. "He hardly comes to school anymore, but I hear that he practically lives over at her house."

"Stop."

"Do you think it's fair to put yourself through that? To still want to have anything to do with him when he's always putting you second?"

"I said _stop_, Sebastian."

"Just don't forget that while you're heartbroken and lost without him, no matter how many times he says sorry he'll never mean because he has nothing to be sorry for. He's still with her. With _Emily_. He doesn't _care _about what a bitch she is. He's not sorry."

"Shut up!" I demanded, seeing now as a fit time to start struggling in his hold and clawing at his hand.

Everything happened at once then: Sebastian yanking at my chin, me stilling in his arms, and his lips pressing against mine forcefully to forever consummate my first kiss. I violently pushed out at him, and when that didn't work, and his lips remained unmoving, I brought my knee up and kicked him as hard as my frustration and anger allowed me to. As soon as he lost his step and went slack around me, I bolted out of there.

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><p>It was that same night when I got home that my father decided it'd be a good idea to go out to dinner. It was something we hadn't done in seemingly years, with the exception of birthdays and sometimes certain holidays, and going over to Jace's to eat with his family occasionally, but I was grateful. Ever since my falling out with Jace, I had regained my footing with my father and we'd grown closer. It was small things, like simply choosing to watch a movie with him rather than watch one myself in my room, and eating with him at the table, and talking to him on a more regular, casual basis. For a long time, ever since my mom died, there had been this uncertainty between us, one that Jace had kept my mind off of for so long now, and it was finally <em>gone<em>.

Anyways, he let me choose where we were to eat, like always, and I couldn't think of anything better to help get my mind off of things than to sink my teeth into Mal's oversized, endlessly cheesy and gooey and fattening pizza. I hadn't been there in forever, and though my last time at Mal's happened to be with Jace, I loved it unconditionally.

However, I changed my mind as soon as we got there.

What are the odds that Jace and his family would be there, too?

It was Celine, Jace's mother, that saw us first. A dazzling smile graced her beautifully elegant features and she wasted no time to ditch her husband and son to come greet both me and my father. "Clary," she exclaimed, gasping animately. "Would you look at you. No glasses?" Her freshly-done nails were then reaching for my hair, threading between my smooth strands endearingly. "Your hair looks beautiful. I don't think I've seen you with straight hair since, what? Elementary school?" She laughed and pulled me into a hug.

It was easy to love Mrs. Herondale. She'd always been like a second mother to me and had nothing but kind words and ambiance to offer me, even now, after Jace had undoubtedly informed her of our falling out. I couldn't help but look at her and think of all the things she'd done for me; it was effortless the way she'd pay for my dinner or lunch if I was ever with the them on a day out, how her charm—uncannily similar to that of Jace's—always brought me warmth like a blanket, how she'd simply reach out and take my hand to give it a reassuring squeeze or kiss my cheek in a greeting. Having lost my mother all those years ago, Celine hadn't taken her place, no, but she'd made it somewhat more bearable with the knowledge that I had her looking out for me.

Not to mention, Celine had been there when I first got my period. Without her, Jace would've been able to blackmail into doing anything. Let's just leave it at that.

She pulled away with a warming smile, pinching my cheek ever so slightly before wrapping one her arms around my narrow shoulders to give Jace and Mr. Herondale a perfect view of me. "Isn't our Clary just lovely." Stephen, Jace's father, was quick to pull me into a back-breaking hug, kissing the top of my head. I was yanked from Celine's embrace and into his. Like Jace, Mr. Herondale was just _big_, and so, naturally, he was quite strong too. He forgot this sometimes. "Like father like son" had never had such freakishly literal meaning before Jace and Stephen; they were mirror images of each other. Standing side-by-side, they were practically the same height, though Mr. Herondale still had a few inches over his son, and, if I didn't know any better, and if Mr. Herondale wasn't growing his beard out, I would've the two could be brothers.

"She's beautiful," he said, lifting me off of the floor momentarily before setting me down and clasping my shoulder as he would to another guy around his size. Yeah, it was a little too rough for me and I had to take a moment to balance myself outright again, but I didn't do anything but smile in return. Celine, however, hit his arm.

"You can't go around doing that to people, Stephen," she chastised. "Do you want her arm to fall off?"

"Come on, Celine," Mr. Herondale laughed, his voice as guttural and friendly as always. "The girl can take it."

Celine placed her hands over her hips, arching an eyebrow—a look Jace had inherited and used himself on a daily basis. "You forget that you're over six-feet tall and two-hundred pounds—"

"It's a-hundred-ninety-eight—"

She huffed at the interruption. "Oh, is it now? Is _that _why I'm apparently fifteen pounds lighter than I was yesterday?"

Mr. Herondale blushed. "That's _great_, honey—"

Celine turned towards me, rolling her eyes as if to say _men_. "He's supposed to be on a diet, and he thinks that I'll get off of his case if he loses some weight. _So_, naturally, he reset our scale and didn't think I'd notice."

I widened my eyes engagingly, laughing breathily. "Did he now?

"He did," she nodded, shaking her head exasperatingly. "He thinks he's so clever, but I _know _what he's up to." She shot her husband a look, one that held warning but that was distinctly loving.

"I _am_ still on my diet," Mr. Herondale coughed. "I had a salad—"

"And six slices of pizza."

I allowed myself to become overly-engaged in their couples' not-so-serious banter, hoping that if I kept looking at them when they looked at me, smiling, and nodding occasionally, that I wouldn't have to face Jace—whose eyes never stopped pleading for mine since we got to Mal's. I could _feel _him and his ever-present gaze like an unwanted neon light blinking in my peripheral vision.

Celine rolled her eyes as her husband grinned cheekily at all of us. "Well, anyways, Clary, we haven't seen you around in a while," she said, looking me over again. "I've missed having another girl in the house."

My heart contracted painfully in my chest, but I smiled anyways. I was thankful for my father, then, who came to the rescue and put a comforting hand along my lower back. "Clary hasn't been feeling well for the past couple of weeks. I think she's doing better now, though."

As Celine and Stephen nodded understandingly and carried on their conversation with my father, I couldn't help but want to see Jace's reaction. And so I did the stupidest thing I'd ever done and...I looked at him. He stood a little ways behind Stephen, but his aureate eyes were so bright, even from the distance he stood at, that I instinctively wanted to break the connection and stare down at my shoes. I didn't, though. I knew Jace better than I cared to admit, and I knew that right now he was clearly upset. It was all in the way that he carried himself; how he leaned against his chair like he needed some type of support, how he stood upright but not as straight as usual, how his shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly when he usually held himself with them squared. He looked exhausted, and I felt a pang of guilt hit me tenfold.

"Jace hasn't been feeling all that well himself," Stephen commented, looking over his shoulder at his son momentarily, who then avoided his father's gaze by looking down at the tiled-floor.

"Maybe these two just need to hangout," Celine said, looking genuinely troubled as she smiled tight-lipped. "They've always been inseparable."

_Yeah, before Jace started to get the hots for Emily. _

"I'm sure Jace is busy," I found myself saying, fueled by my resurfacing hurt and frustration and anger over the entire situation. "Now that he has a girlfriend and all." I deliberately avoided Jace's eyes then, staring solely at Celine and Stephen.

Both of their eyes went wide with shock. "_What_?" Celine exclaimed, whirling around to face her son. "You have a girlfriend—?"

"_No_," Jace said, but he wasn't looking at his mom when he said this. He took a step towards me, and, if it weren't for my father's hand on my back, I would've stumbled backwards in surprise. "Clary. I don't have a girlfriend. I'm telling you, Emily and I are done. I broke things off with her as soon as you left that day. I was stupid—"

"Well this is all news to me," Mr. Herondale mused, looking between us.

Jace, suddenly conscience of all the other eyes in the room on us, including the pizzeria-dudes in the kitchen, flushed and swallowed a little uneasily. "Clary," he then said, holding my gaze. "Can we..._talk_? In private?"

I looked up at my father as if he had the answer for me, but then, before I knew it, I found myself nodding, coming to my own decision. "Okay."

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><p><strong>Sorry I didn't update on Wednesday like what my new schedule promised, buuuut...It's getting down to the last week until finals and things are just crazy. As soon as I'm on break, though, things should be getting back to normal! Hope you guys liked this chapter!<strong>

**Please review and tell me your thoughts(:**

**Until next time, peace**

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><p><strong>Will edit soon.<strong>


	9. Unwritten

**~Clary~**

Apparently, "in private" meant out back in the alleyway behind Mal's, next to the dumpsters and hustle and bustle of the city-side. It was cold, even in my winter coat and scarf getup, and I could see my breath like a white smoke cloud. So, not only was I freezing, but standing in the presence of the boy who'd broken my heart no more than a couple weeks ago. Uncomfortable didn't even begin to describe it.

I looked down at my shoes, finding solace and some form of familiarity in them; I'd been wearing the same Chuck's since middle school, and with them I had made it all those years without my mother, depending too-heavily on Jace, and, oh yeah, hopelessly pinning after him. I guess I should hate them, even though most of the memories they'd been apart of were good, because all of the bad memories were too momentous to simply avoid thinking about. In these shoes I had fallen in love, and in these shoes I'd had my heart broken because of it.

I'd feel as if I weren't even in my own skin, though, if I were wearing anything different. I wasn't the type of girl to coordinate my shoes with my outfit of the day, or to "change things up". I appreciated things to remain stagnant and unchanging, which can account for my cowardice when it came to admitting my feelings for Jace—because certainly exploiting my feelings that weren't all-too friendly to my _friend _would come with some imminent changes.

And now, everything was different.

I could feel Jace staring at me, and it was so unsettling that I had to shift on my feet every couple of seconds to keep myself from blushing or giving headway to all of the emotions that were rippling just underneath the surface of my skin. I hated to think that our friendship, which had been called "inseparable", now has me trying to _hide _myself from Jace, the one person I was supposed to reveal all to.

And the silence was deafening. I'd thought that when Jace said "talk" that we'd actually, you know, _talk_, and instead we were standing opposite each other, acting like complete strangers. It got to the point that _I _had to be the one to break it, albeit with a huff. "So, this isn't going anywhere," I told Jace, finally looking at him and seeming to take him off guard. "Thanks for the 'talk'." The words left my mouth bitterly, and then I was already whirling around to head back inside before I could gauge his reaction.

There was a desperate hand that reached out and gently grabbed my shoulder that made me stop almost against my will, though. "Clary, please," Jace said, and despite me not being able to see his face, I knew he was being sincere. That he was as upset as his tone betrayed. "I'm..._trying_ to think of the right things to say. I don't—I _can't _have you being mad at me anymore, and I don't want to make things worse by..." he trailed off, as if realizing something in the midst of what I supposed to be the beginning of a long apology. "Look at us," he said, to my surprise. "Just a month ago we were sneaking over to each others houses and watching movies, and laughing, and telling each other everything, and now..."

I sighed, turning back around to face him, trying to ignore the pang of guilt I felt. "This is a real sorry excuse at trying to make amends—if that's even what you're trying to do."

Jace looked taken aback, but his expression returned to its normal state along with his shoulders deflating in agreement. "Yeah," he said, "it is."

I looked at him harshly, as if trying to make all the things I wanted to hear him say just come out and into the open, but Jace, for once, appeared to be at a loss for words, opening and closing his mouth like a gaping, confused fish. "Just spit it out!" I demanded suddenly, unable to help my arms that moved on their own behalf. "We haven't talked in two weeks, and yet I know you've come over to my house begging to do just that. What were you going to say then, if I had allowed you to come in? _Nothing_?"

"I-I...I'm sorry," he finally managed.

I narrowed my eyes at him, feeling them well up with tears. "You're 'sorry'," I repeated in unconcealed disbelief. "_Sorry_, Jace? Really? Just forget it. Clearly we're not going to fix things between us and I'd rather not waste my time here with you when I'm cold and hurt, and upset, and tired of thinking about how wonderful our friendship was—because I don't even know if I want it back anymore."

I took a deep breath, letting my words linger in the air as I scrubbed hastily at a miserable tear that I had made the mistake to let fall. I wasn't seeing Jace, I wasn't seeing _anything_, really, just talking blindly and relying on all of my festering and pent up emotions to just spill out. It was long over-due, and I _was _tired, and Jace needed to hear it. "I think you knew," I told him shakily. "I think you knew all this time that I liked you—"

"No, Clary, I truly, honestly, from the bottom of my heart didn't. I would've—"

"_Shut up_!" I interjected sharply. "I gave you the opportunity to talk and you didn't take it. Now it's my turn." I had to take a few moments to take hold of all that I wanted him to know so it didn't just come out as one big garble of words. That was hard to do, seeing as I couldn't even tell whether I was more sad or angry at this point. "How couldn't you have known?" I managed. "There is no possible way that you couldn't have known if _Sebastian _of all people knew. I think you knew, and I think you would've continued to allow me to have these feelings for you for as long as you could, _pretending _otherwise, because you obviously don't feel the same way, and you didn't want to 'lose our friendship'. Well, guess what? You lost it."

"Don't say that," Jace said, sounding desperate. He took a step towards me, reaching out his hands, which I, in turn, recoiled away from. The hurt that I registered in his face became one in the same with my own, but I had to push it down despite how hard it was. I felt like crying like a baby and slapping him repeatedly in the face and screaming until my throat was raw, because he'd ruined everything. It was his stupidity and ignorance and unwillingness to confront this blockade between us head-on. Be damned if he broke things off with Emily, because, even if he hadn't, our problems were boiling over even before she came into the picture.

"Don't say that, Clary," he repeated. "_Please _don't say that. You are one of the most important, if not the most important person in my life. I love you, Clary—"

"Not the same way I do," I said, sounding hopeless. I looked up at the sky, more tears spilling over, before I finally met him with a surely broken gaze. "I thought that I could ignore it, and I thought that I could be any way you wanted me to be if it meant that you were happy, even if that meant pretending I didn't care when you dated other girls who all treated me like crap behind your back. But, it's just not fair...I had to listen to you talk about other girls—how beautiful and exceptional and perfect they all are, and wonder if you'd ever talk about me like that. With every girl you dated, you-you practically dangled them all in my face, and then I'd have to go home and wait until you'd call or come over and act like I liked them just as much as you said you did.

"And that day when you first met Emily, and you were talking about her like she was 'the one', and were describing her with so much amazement and talking like you already loved her, I..." I trailed off, wiping at my eyes and then crossing my arms over my chest as if to comfort myself with a hug. "For just a moment there, I actually thought that you were talking about me...And then I saw who she was, and I couldn't believe it. She threatened me and made fun of me—_in front of you_—and talked about me like I was some misbehaved dog or something. She broke my _glasses_, Jace—which may not seem like a big deal, but to someone who can hardly afford cable and eats leftovers most days of the week, it was.

"And then when I told you, you didn't even believe me, and-and you _chose _her over me, even when I've known you my whole life practically and she just walked into ours, like, two days ago. If you think, for one second, that I'll just forgive you, you're wrong. I'm sick and tired of always 'pretending'; I don't want to have to _act _like I'm okay around you when I'm not. When you call me 'cute' or 'adorable', or ruffle my hair and talk to me like I'm 'one of the guys', that _hurts_, okay? _A lot_. I'm _not _one of the guys, and it really _hurts _when you talk to me like I am, or make fun of me because I've never had a real boyfriend or my first kiss—"

I stopped my rant abruptly, my face draining of color when I recounted what had happened earlier today with Sebastian. I _have _had my first kiss, even though I hadn't wanted it; I'd wanted to save my first kiss for someone who I knew I loved, who was special, for _Jace_. And then I was angry, because if Jace hadn't been too much of a coward to confront his problems and actually go to school, surely he would've stopped that from happening—but, no. How could he have? It's not like I would've talked to him if I saw him. Most probably I would've given him the most nasty glare I could muster before turning in the other direction. Sebastian kissing me would've happened regardless of Jace or Emily. He was just a sick person, and I couldn't turn that on Jace, even if he'd hurt me just as bad, if not ten times worse.

But I still couldn't help but feel like it still _was _Jace's fault. If he had only opened his eyes and stood up for me, and, what? Swooped me up in his arms and rode off with me into the sunset...No. I could be mad at Jace for _plentiful _reasons, but I couldn't be mad that he doesn't feel the same way about me. I couldn't force my feelings onto him, and I wouldn't dream of it, but the fact of the matter was that he'd manipulated and abused our friendship. He'd taken advantage of me, and would've kept stringing me along as long as I would've allowed him to.

He wasn't all to blame, for it had taken me this long to finally gain a backbone, but Jace had still chosen a pretty face over a girl he's known since our days in diapers. I couldn't just forgive that.

He seemed to notice my abrupt silence, and took another step forward. "Clary—"

"I guess I forgot to tell you, what with our whole not speaking to each other for half a month," I said. "But it happened today."

"What happened today?" Jace asked, his eyebrows furrowed. Realization dawned on his face and I don't know how I felt when I saw that he looked somewhat _hurt_. He didn't have the right. "Who?" he said in a small voice.

"Sebastian," I whispered.

His eyes widened and then Jace looked enraged, as if he thought that I had _let _him kiss me. "No, Clary. He's bad news—you _know _this. Why would you let him kiss you?"

"Just like you knew deep down Emily was bad news?"

"Oh, so this is what this is about?" he said in disbelief, slapping his hands against his legs. "You're trying to get back at me. You think that if you go around kissing that _prick _that you can somehow hurt me like I hurt you whenever I kissed Emily—"

"_No_, you complete and utter asshole. _Sebastian_ kissed _me_. I didn't have a choice in the matter because _I _was pinned up against the boys locker-room wall with his hand yanking out my hair! Is that what kind of person you think I am? You haven't talked to me in two weeks, and you think that all this time I've been plotting to 'get back at you'?" I scoffed in unconcealed anger, shaking my head. "You know, this was a mistake. I shouldn't have even come out here with you because I _finally _realize that I can't change you; you'll always be self-centered and going after the 'next big thing', willing to turn your back whenever there's a pretty face with high-heels and raccoon-eyes. You still have the nerve to think the worst of me, when, news flash: _you're _the one who hurt me. Not the other way around—"

"_I'm sorry_, _Clary_," Jace suddenly exclaimed. "I am so, so, _so _sorry. I _know _you're nothing like that, and I'm a complete idiot for even thinking you'd have your first kiss with someone I know you hate. I'm stupid, okay? You know that, too. Otherwise I wouldn't have treated you so badly and talked about other girls when I have you—the best, most amazing girl there is—"

He was cut off by my hand—acting on its own accord—coming down on his face like a whip. He clutched the cheek that I had, unbelievably, slapped, his eyes wide with shock. "_Don't do _this," I practically shouted. "Don't talk about me like you finally realize that _I'm _the one when you very well know that I'm not. Don't say these things to help your apology sound better, because it's only going to hurt me more. You only think of me as a friend, and this topic should've been discussed _ages _ago, but don't you dare think that by showering me in compliments and telling me everything that I want to hear will make me feel better if you feel wrong saying it."

"But that's just the thing, Clary," Jace said, closing the small gap between us completely. With both of his hands, he clutched my shoulders, desperate to regain my attention and prevent me from turning away. His face, adorned with a new, small, red handprint on his cheek, demanded to be looked at as his impossibly golden eyes looked deeply into my own. "It doesn't feel wrong. It feels _right_. In fact, it feels like the most natural and _right _thing to say: I _do _like you. Hell, I love you—and not as a friend. And I'm not just saying it because I know that you feel a certain way. I'm saying this because I don't want to be stupid anymore and keep pushing away the best thing in my life. You mean the world to me, Clary. And none of those other girls can compare to you.

"I may not have realized that I loved you until after I lost you, but I do now. I love you—and I'm more sure about this than I am about anything. You're my best friend, but you're more than that. You're someone I can't live without, and I'm _sorry _that I hurt you. I'm sorry that I made the biggest mistake of my life and let you go, when I should've realized all along that the reason I was never happy with any of the other girls I was with was because none of them were you.

"I was desperate to feel a connection as deeply as I felt with you with someone else, because, how could I possibly be in love with my best friend?" he laughed breathily, wiping at the tears now freely falling from my cheeks. "The girl who vomited all over Mrs. Clover's classroom in pre-k, and enjoys surprise-attacking me with Nerf guns, and putting away an entire gallon of ice cream during our movie marathons when you're only a pint big. I didn't think that I could love someone who I could, devotedly, tell everything to, who I could reveal myself completely to. I thought that having a relationship was a different type of connection—and I know I'm stupid—and I was looking for something that was impossible to find because I already had it— I sound like such a cheesy douchebag, but, Clary, I love you and I'm sorry."

I shook my head, trying to make sense of the fact that what he was telling me was what I have been waiting for him to tell me for _years _now. I almost couldn't believe it, and I was such a mess that I even questioned whether I was hearing him correctly, but I was also so hurt that it was hard to just accept that he felt the same way about me. How could someone who broke my heart and manage to belittle me into a pool of tears and second-guessing myself, love me? Then again, how could _I _love someone who broke my heart and belittle me into tears and anxiety?

Perhaps Jace truly didn't know that I loved him beyond the limit of being just friends, perhaps he did, but all this time he still hadn't known that he felt the same way about me—and now he suddenly does? It was unfathomable, yet so beautifully and erratically delivered that I found myself giving into the words I had been, for so long, desperate to hear with all my vulnerable heart. I didn't want to just _give in _and suddenly forgive him, turning into silly putty at the prospect of a few promising and powerful words, but I was runny syrup, so worn out and free of elasticity that I wanted to just collapse in his arms. It was exhausting, really.

"And I know what you're thinking: that I'm the biggest jerk known to mankind. That I don't deserve you, because I truly don't," Jace continued when he realized that I was stunned into silence. I found him, right before my eyes, regaining his step and speaking with more resolve; with more force behind his words—enough to threaten my balance. "When that disaster with Emily happened, and I didn't believe you—even though, deep down, I knew that I had every reason to—and you walked away after telling me that you never wanted to speak to me again, you broke _my _heart. I hated to think that I had hurt you so badly and made you cry, I hated that I couldn't stand up for you, let alone decide between that bitch and you. I _knew _that she was full of lies Clary, I really think I did, but...I had just been so hopeful that she could be the one I could have that connection with, that I didn't care.

"But she's gone now. I broke up with her the moment you left—and called her a 'bitch' to her face," he laughed, and I couldn't help but smile a little myself, albeit with wobbly lips and tears irritating my contacts. "And you had me so worried because I couldn't get ahold of you and I couldn't talk to you. Your father probably thought it was a banshee outside whenever I came over to see you—and just seeing the way he looked at me, Clary, it was...the worst feeling in the world. He looked at me with all the disappointment I felt with myself, and for a while _I_ wanted to disappear, too. But, you're right: I had hurt you. And I need to fix this, because I can't lose you, okay?

"I'm an idiot and a coward and I can't even think of one good reason as to why you should forgive me—but I love you. And I hate to see you this upset, and I hate that for so long you thought about yourself like this, when, really, you're better than me. You shouldn't have been trying to put up this front that would please me, Clary. _I _should've been doing it for you. What you've done for me, though, means more to me than anything. I don't know why you stuck around this long, but thank you, because I'd be a whole lot worse without my best friend.

"The next time I see Sebastian, I'm going to send him to the emergency room, because now you have to be kissed against your will for a second time today."

Before I could even register what he said, his lips were on mine. At first, I found myself going rigid in his arms, unfamiliar with the sensation and so beyond comprehension that I didn't know left from right, but it didn't take long for me to realize that _Jace _was kissing _me_.

And so I kissed him back.

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><p><strong>Sorry I had to end it there, but a new chapter is coming! I mean it this time.<strong>

**Thank you so much for all of your reviews and private messages; I've read them all and taken them to heart. I have no excuse other than I've been busy and somewhat unmotivated to write lately because of my creative writing class. That teacher is horrible when it comes to homework...**

**Hopefully this resolve, though, makes up for my absence! You guys are amazing!**

**Until next time, peace(:**


	10. New Dawn

**Here's the last chapter everyone! The doc I wrote this on was without any means of spell check, so if I butchered any words, that's why. I'll be editing my mistakes...Eventually(;**

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><p>The next day at school, I sat at lunch surrounded by my usual crowd. Jace and I clearly had a lot to talk about, so the alternative was to kiss whenever we saw each other to avoid anymore heavy talks, at least for the time being. Speaking of the devil, he'd suddenly disappeared after we parted our seperate ways going to third period, though he'd told me, lips pressed against the shell of my ear, to save him a spot in the cafeteria. I was seriously starting to doubt he'd arrive with enough time to grab something to eat, much less join our friends and explain his absence, like I knew everyone was dying to hear about. I had taken it upon myself to inform the harmless but inhibiting natures of the group that Jace and I had initiated phase one of the "healing process," as opposed to having to jump into ablong, uncomfortable detail.<p>

Perhaps I had accepted Jace's apology - however beautifully delievered and heart-felt - too easily, but I was tired of feeling angry, of holding something over our heads we could never completely erase from our past no matter how hard either of us tried. By forgiving him, but certainly not capable of ever forgetting, I was preventing the spike in our relationship from surfacing again down the line. Besides, it wouldn't have felt right if we parted with uncertainty once more. Clearly my feelings had never been far off from the mark like I'd originally thought, because if kissing Jace was so much better than I'd ever imagined, being with him made me feel impossibly whole. For the first time in a long time, I was happy.

Maia was yacking in my ear about the dress she'd already ordered for _next _year's prom date, and Isabelle was demanding she see pictures, their boyfriends slumped in their seats and discussing our plans for Friday night, seemingly unaffected by the high-pitched squeals and voiced hopes coming from the two girls. I, however, wasn't listening to anything, my gaze glued on a distraught-looking Emily Louthan currently in pursuit of a vacated lunch table, the double-doors to the cafeteria swinging in her wake.

"...dating?" I tore my attention away from the girl who had been the focal point of the personal hell I'd been living for the past couple weeks, snapped out of my frozen stupor by Isabelle's suddenly-demanding and raised voice directed my way. I blinked at the raven-haired beauty, regrettful that I hadn't heard a thing she'd said. Her hopeful expression turned into a sour one in a matter of seconds as she registered my blank look. "_Really_, Clary. Have you been listening to anything I'm saying?"

I felt guilty, but at the same time I wasn't in the proper mood for "girl talk one-O-one" with Isabelle Lightwood and Maia Roberts. "Sorry," I said lamely, shifting uneasily in my seat, watching Emily from the corner of my eye, as I gave the girl sitting across from me a hopefully-apologetic smile.

Isabelle rolled her dark eyes, flattening her maincured hand against the curve of her jaw. "You're lucky you're a cute one, Clary. If you _didn't _have eyes bigger than my younger brother's, or were missing just one freckle - just _one __- _I would've stab my heel into your hand by now."

Maia shot her friend an incredulous look, glancing back at me with widened eyes, communicating that Isabelle was absolutely insane. "You need help. Jordan's aunt is a podiatrist. I'll get you her number for you - "

Isabelle scoffed. "I'm sure I don't need to pay a _foot _doctor a visit. I think you meant psychiatrist, moron."

Maia's cheeks reddened, and I watched with concealed amusement as she recoiled into Jordan's side, who, still deep in conversation with Simon, smiled down at his girlfriend and placed a kiss along her hairline, before suggesting to the other boy to consider bowling or laser-tag over a movie. It was such a natural reaction for Jordan to immediately welcome Maia into his embrace, for him to then press a sweet kiss to her forehead, and then carry on with his discussion as if it happened all the time. Maybe that'd be Jace with me one day. I couldn't help but hope. After we officialized what we were to each other, he _could _be my boyfriend; we could be in a relationship.

"_Anyways_," Isabelle clucked, attention solely on me. "I saw you and Jace in the hallway earlier looking particularly cozy. Considering you _both _are even at school gives me the impression that something happened last night. What, are you guys, like, dating now?"

At that, everyone fell silent, boys and all, and looked to me for a definite answer. I looked down quickly before meeting their hopelessly curious gazes head-on, shrugging uncomfortably. "We talked," I relented.

"_And_?" Isabelle prodded, leaning towards me like her implicatory tone.

"Nothing is certain," I said, weighing my words and how they sounded on my tongue. At all of their acusatory eyes, which seemed to know I was holding something from them and that they wouldn't be letting this go until I spilled (figuratively, of course), I straightened my back, swallowing. "But, like I said, we talked. About a lot. Obviously we have some work to do and it's going to take some time, but..."

"Oh, _come on_," Isabelle groaned. "Just tell me if the blond, angelic-looking asshole manned-up and confessed his undying love for you!"

"You could say that," I said, sounding painstakingly awkward. "We're going to work towards a relationship, at least that's the impression I got...And Jace said sorry for...everything...and-and..." I found myself having trouble filtering my words, instead appealing to what my friends all wanted to hear, because at the moment I couldn't think about anything besides Emily now standing from her chair, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and walking towards the exit. My legs clearly disconnected from my mind, I mounted to my feet, murming a lame excuse along the lines of 'needing fresh air,' or something like that, and let them carry me after her.

I wished I could just be happy with never having to waste another breath on the girl for as long as I lived. She _had _threatened me, stolen away my best friend, _broken _my glasses, and the likes, but at the same time, if it weren't for her satanic, twisted nature, Jace probably would've never realized he had feelings for me. Although it had been her intention to keep him in her sharpened, polished nails to dangle in front of me at my own expense, she ended up doing the exact opposite. With that thought in mind, which had alone been the foundation of my dreams since that day in the hallway, I didn't want to always feel like she'd gotten the better of me. I'd let her walk all over me. It was my own fault that I'd made myself into such an easy target; girls like Emily couldn't help but prey on the weak.

If it weren't for Maia or Jordan, I would've cried in front of the entire student boy because of petty girl deluded with the impression that she ran the school. I wanted to change that. I didn't want to be as small as I was physically any longer. It didn't matter that I got the guy in the end if Emily still felt as if she had power over me.

Once in the hallway, Emily stopped when she heard a pair of footsteps echoing hers. She lazily turned on her heel, instantly twisting her glossy lips into a smile when she saw me standing not even a yard away. "If it isn't little Pippi Longstocking," Emily drawled, crossing her hands over her poorly-concealed cleavage. I still couldn't comprehend that Jace was ever under her spell when she walked around looking like she was _everyone_'s girlfriend. Her father was the principal; it was his dresscode staff enforced in the halls, and yet it was his daughter who wore skirts that hardly covered the lace of her underwear and shirts that were see-through enough to notice the desperate appeal of her bra. "I bet you feel on top of the world right about now, even if you'd be a midget if not for the extra few inches your hair gives you."

I rolled my eyes. "I think we're past petty namecalling, Emily," I said, just barely refraining from calling her She-beast instead. "Let's make this quick: I don't want you to think that I'm somehow satisfied now that Jace finally saw through your extensions and too-small clothing selections."

Emily feigned surprise, forming her lips into an O. "I didn't know you could bite, little Clary."

I clenched my fists hanging down by my sides. "You're a horrible person. You're vindictive and used to getting everything you want, and then manipulative when things don't go exactly as planned. But I feel sorry for you. You must've been through a lot to see everyone as the enemy, and I'm sure your parents have a played a role in that- "

"_My _parents?" Emily giggled, sounding disbelieving. "You're the one with a dead mother."

My mouth was set with resolve; I'd expected in advance that she'd be using _that _at least a couple times, but that also meant she was relying on last-resorts. Emily was backed into a corner, and that was someplace she wasn't used to being in. "I also have a father who eats dinner with me every night," I said, voice steady. "Who loves me and would do anything for me. I'm not alone in the world like you are."

She scoffed. "Last I recalled, I have everyone from the soccer team to the mathletes following after my every step. I'm not alone, little Clary. I'm just above having either one of my parents doting on me when I have an entire school to do that."

"That's where you're wrong," I said. "High school only lasts four years, and then what's left is the real world. I used to be afraid to think of the future, of having to encounter more people like you who want to bring me down, but now I realize that they - that _you _- wouldn't feel the need to do that if you weren't threatened. I may not be the ideal girl boys automatically dream of finding one day, but perfection isn't tangible, only imaginable. I can be as beautiful as people want to see me as, and the same goes for you, until you give people a reason to believe otherwise.

"I'm a good person. Maybe I'm quiet and different, and mabye I have wierd hair and freckles, but I'm not afraid anymore like you are. Sure, you have boys at your every beck and call, but for as long as you let your nature reflect how cruel life has been to you and keep pushing people away faster than you reel them in, you're going to be alone. You'll be angry for as long as you are, and you'll want to take that out on other people, but I will no longer be one of those people. You may smile more than I do, but I'm always going the happier one out of the two of us, and not because of a boy. Because I finally accept how I look, and, more importantly, everything - from my mother's passing, to the years of being invisible and letting girls like you shadow my potential - I've been through that has made me into who I am today.

"I don't care what you think about me anymore, so long as you keep it to yourself. Better yet, find a person who will bother to listen. One day, you're not going to be perfect-looking, and then the façade of interested people will dissapear, and you'll no longer have the shoulders of your parents to fall back on, or boys willing to tell you what it is you want to hear, only your notoriety. While I won't let you dictate my life any longer, I have one thing to say: for as long as you're angry, you're alone."

Emily was quick to dismiss my words, scoffing angrily and rolling her bright eyes. "_Right_," she sneered. "If you're done now, I'd like to remind you of your place in this world you seem to know so well all of the sudden - "

I smiled tightly at her. "Goodbye, Emily."

"Don't you walk away from me," she shouted, but I was already heading back towards the cafeteria, feeling a weight lifting from my shoulders.

"You know, just because you don't wear those glasses anymore doesn't mean you're all that - Who gives you the right to ignore me!" Her relentless words were never-ending, but I felt so light that I could fly. She was still spewing nonsence when the cafeteria doors closed on her, but I couldn't hear her any longer, and I couldn't help but smile at how ridiculous she must look like in that moment, shouting at empty space.

I feinted towards my table of friends when my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was from Jace: _Come outside, love._

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><p>The first thing I noticed was the vivid bruise covering the majority of his lower jaw, and the blackening skin around his right eye. Despite this, Jace looked at perfect ease, perched on the bottom step of the school's courtyard.<p>

"Hello, beautiful," he greeted me, flashing a dazzling smile.

"Don't you 'hello, beautiful' _me_," I said, letting the anger at seeing his beat-up shape seep into my admonishing tone. "What happened to your face!"

"I got suspended for three days," he drawled casually, happy as if he'd just revealed that he had gotten accepted into his number-one college early on a full-ride scholarship.

"_What_!" I exclaimed, jaw unhinged. "What do you mean you got suspended for three days? What's the matter with you?"

Jace simply held out his hand for me, not giving me a choice before he was pulling me into his chest and burying his face into the crook of my neck. "Care to explain why you're so happy about this," I said, pushing against him to create a slight distance between our bodies so that I could look into his eyes. "I mean, if _I _were in your shoes I'd be fearing for what Celine will do once she finds out right about now."

"She'll be happy, too," Jace mused, smiling with so much affection down at me that I blushed, my stomach flopping.

"Are you on drugs?" I countered, causing Jace to simply laugh out. He went ahead with stroking his long, calloused touch against the side of my face, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. I would be lying if I felt like I was being punked, but at the same time his open display was leaving my legs feeling like jelly, and I - to some extent of embarrassment - went slack in his arms.

"I defended your honor, that's all," Jace told me. My eyes went wide, knowing exactly what that entailed.

"Are you crazy? You fought Sebastian?"

"Kicked his ass, more like."

I rolled my eyes. "_Jace_, you can't go around picking fights with every boy you have a problem with."

"You're right," he said, not at all concerned as he pulled me back against him, perching his chin on top of my head. "But I can when _you _have a problem with them."

Disbelieving and still severely pissed off that Jace had gotten himself _suspended_, I found myself laughing, shaking my head into his chest. "You got yourself kicked out of school over this?" I repeated incredulously. I stepped away in an instant. "What about football? Colleges won't be interested in a guy to play football when they don't ever _see _him playing football - "

Jace put an arm on either side of me, enlosing his hands around the railing I was leaning against, a dopey smile gracing his features. It was hard to be mad when he was _that _close. "I'm bored with this converstaion. Let's talk about us."

"Are you being serious right now?" I gaped.

"I'm being dead serious," Jace grinned, leaning in so that his breath stirred my hair.

"But - "

"Shh," he exhaled, quickly cutting me off. "Do you want to go on a date with me?"

I blinked. "I have school - "

"That's okay. You have school tomorrow," Jace said, pressing kisses along the column of my neck. My breathing hitched, and though a part of me - the logical and reasonable part - wanted to protest my body from melting, the other, more convincing part allowed for me to turn into puddy. Jace was _necking _me.

He suddenly ceased his minustrations, just not soon enough and a beat too late, clearly convinced with himself that I wouldn't refuse him anymore even if I wanted to. Slowly, he trailed a hand down the length of my arm and entwined it with mine. "Shall we, love?" he said, smiling cheekily.

"Isn't that something British people say?" I said, my breathing erratic.

"Now I do, too," Jace drawled, already pulling me away from the school and towards the parking lot. "I'm thinking ice cream."

"I'm more in the mood for gelato."

He smirked down at me, pulling me into his side. "I think I know a place that can accomodate _both _of our cravings."

With that, he opened the passenger side-door for me - in the seat I had always belonged in, sitting right beside him - and he jumped into the driver's chair, wasting no time to wind our hands together once more, resting them on the consul. "We're still talking," I told him, though I was without resolve, feeling completely blown away and dazed as I stared down at our linked hands; one small, pale and freckled, the other large and confident with color. Somehow they fit perfectly together.

I watched, then, as Jace brought our perfectly-joined hands to his mouth and pressed another kiss on my knuckles. "Good, because I have a lot to say to you," he promised.

I fell back into my seat with a smile on my face, rolling my eyes.

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><p><strong>Until next time, peace.<strong>


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